A Lyrical Persuasion
by Mockingbyrd's Tune
Summary: Complete! Persuasion/POTO Crossover Anne Christine Elliot met Frederik "Erik" Wentworth at 17. When she meets Frederik again he is a famous musical composer. Will love flourish again or will she fall for her uncle's stepson, the dashing Raoul de Chagny?
1. The Name 'Wentworth'

**I don't own **_**Persuasion**_**, that most charming of love stories. I don't own **_**Phantom of the Opera**_**, either.**

**The story is set in the U.S. around the present time. The language holds archaic tendencies just because I like it.**

Chapter 1 – The Name 'Wentworth'

"You will have to rent out the estate," concluded Mr. Shepherd, who was sitting on a white-leather club chair in Walter Elliot's California residence.

"Where are _we _going to live?" huffed Elizabeth. Her tone indicated that she was bordering on an angry rant.

"It's out of the question," Walter Elliot answered his attorney.

Mrs. Russell spoke now: "Elliot, I do understand your distaste on this subject, but I, with permission from Anne, have looked at the financial records. I do not think Mr. Shepherd is being extreme." The woman's eyes were wide with concern as they gazed upon the famous violinist in his pool robe and sandals. He sank deeper into the teak-framed chaise lounge. His features expressed his desire to find any way of avoiding the horrible news he was forced to consider at the moment.

The attorney, seeing the seriousness of the retired musician's countenance, continued, "If you do not rent out the property, the bank will be forced to-"

"Can't I just declare bankruptcy?" Mr. Elliot looked to his daughter, Elizabeth, for reassurance. She nodded her head, passionately agreeing.

"Yes, why not just go bankrupt?"

"There, now!" The Great Elliot looked pleased with himself.

"Elliot, exemption laws for filing bankruptcy in California do not allow you-,"

"No, Elliot." Mrs. Russell interrupted the attorney. Her matronly but firm tones were a calming balm that helped alleviate the tension in the room. "You will lose the mansion entirely if you do not rent it out." The listeners in the room watched the older man's expression as he turned his head to the red ball outside melting into the horizon off the Malibu coast behind the Elliot mansion.

On the matching loveseat beside Elizabeth sat a slightly older woman dressed in a fuchsia faux suede jacket with a matching feather boa. Mrs. Clay, lately separated from her husband, had only recently found a friend in Elizabeth Elliot. At present, Penelope Clay was trying to look sympathetic while still filing her nails. Many times she would look over at a petite female sitting away from the rest of the party surrounding Walter Elliot. Anne Elliot was seated on an over-large, bamboo-framed armchair. Her hands were clasped in her lap in a nervous manner, but her face did not express her emotions. She was watching the interaction with relative calmness, looking over to her god-mother and her father as they conversed. Yet she did not enter the conversation voluntarily.

Mrs. Clay's eyebrow raised as Anne's father turned to look at his second daughter.

"Anne, I'm sure, has misrepresented our situation to you. We couldn't possibly be that bad off…" His voice trailed away.

Feeling forced to respond, Anne spoke shortly. "I showed her the letters and invoices, Dad."

"How dare you do that? You don't tell our friends our money issues! How dare you embarrass me?" Walter Elliot was finding vent for his financial frustrations, as everyone in the room was uncomfortably aware.

"She only confided in me, because she trusted that I could advise you on the best course of action," mediated Mrs. Russell.

"Advise me! I have an advisor!" Mr. Elliot was becoming quite irate as he gestured to his attorney, Mr. Shepherd.

"And I have advised you for years now to quit spending so much money. Now I am convinced you have no other recourse but to rent out the estate," expressed the lawyer quietly, seeing that the older man might finally listen.

"But where will we live?" Elizabeth asked again, this time in earnest.

"Anne would be delighted to let you stay in her flat in New York until you can find something more permanent." Both Elizabeth and her father made signs of impatient disapproval as Mrs. Russell continued. "It is small, yes, but it will suit your needs at present. And it will put you right in the midst of the city during the height of the season."

"Ah, that's true, Dad. We could be at all of the best performances!" Though Elizabeth spoke of 'performances,' it was plain that she was thinking about the parties. She clandestinely nudged her friend beside her with her elbow.

Though his brow was furrowed, he was nodding now. Considered an influential legend known for his taste in music and theater, The Great Elliot was not without connections. Relief was peeking through the concerned look on Anne's face as she watched her father's expression change.

"Oh, I want to live in Manhattan, Dad. Wouldn't it be the best thing, Penelope?" She turned to Mrs. Clay who shrugged her shoulders.

"Yes, I suppose. But," Mrs. Clay feigned a troubled expression, "you'll have to call me every day and tell me everything that's happening."

"No, you idiot! You're coming with us."

Mrs. Clay looked pleased with this news, but Mrs. Russell did not. "There will not be room for Anne, then."

"It doesn't matter. She won't need to be in New York 'til the fall," Elizabeth cut in briskly.

It was Mrs. Russell's turn to look incredulous now. "It's Anne's apartment!"

Anne spoke up once more to soothe Mrs. Russell's ruffled feelings. "Mary has been begging me to come and help her with the boys for some time. I have promised to stay with her for a few weeks." Her words sounded business-like, as usual; unaffected by the way her older sister discarded her.

"She will probably need you longer," decided Elizabeth.

"Well, now that that is settled, we need to talk about an interested party I have been discussing rates with."

"Discussing rates?" questioned Mr. Elliot completely oblivious to his lawyer's preparation for his financial affairs.

"Rates for renting out the house," explained Mr. Shepherd.

"The renters must be quality. Some 'nobody' is not going to stay in my rooms and use my-," Walter Elliot had a horrified look on his face at the thought of strangers living on his beloved premises.

"I took that into consideration. I think you will be pleased with, not only the tenants, but the amount they are willing to offer." Shepherd was going through his briefcase now with zeal.

"His name is Wentworth, and he and his wife-"

"Wentworth?" questioned Elizabeth. "I've heard that name before…"

"Do they have children? I will not have children running around the displays in my music room!" exclaimed Mr. Elliot.

"They have no children."

"Oh, who is it I know with the name Wentworth?" pursued Elizabeth.

"Shh!" commanded Mrs. Russell now. Her movements to quiet them showed her agitation with the subject. Elliot and his oldest daughter both looked askance at the woman motioning to them. Mrs. Russell was perched upon the cushions of the luxury sofa with an enigmatic energy. The simple pink floral detail on the lapel of her pale, gray pantsuit lay in perfect straightness, as though to bend forward or scrunch up would sully the personage on which the embroidery rested. Valeria Russell had been a friend of Christine and Walter Elliot well before the birth of their three daughters. Her hazel eyes were bright and wide as she glanced with a pained expression at the tired-looking girl in the bamboo chair.

"Oh, I remember!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "You do too, Dad. He's the composer who wrote that musical everyone is going on about. You know, the "mysterious wonder" or something. What was his first name, I can't remember…"

Mrs. Russell's undisguised glare did not curb the insensitive prattle of the daughter. No one seemed the least inclined to end the conversation, even though the small, dark-haired woman sitting away from them seemed distressed by the discussion. Anne had to clear her throat many times to find her voice. "You mean Frederik Wentworth?"

"Yes, I think that name does ring a bell. Is there a connection between the two?" asked Mr. Elliot.

The attorney shook his head, "I couldn't say. This man's business is software-related."

"Hmm…" Walter Elliot didn't seem impressed. "Does he look fit? Does he dress well? I can't have someone coming out of my gate that looks as though he doesn't belong in the neighborhood."

"I'd say so," Mr. Shepherd answered, "He looked pretty fit. And he was very interested in the pool and spas, and asked about the equipment in the gym.

"Oh, I can't stomach the thought of someone sweating on the cushions of my fitness benches," Elliot's eyes widened in horror, "or sitting in my steam shower!"

"Dad, they can all be sanitized or replaced before we return. Of course we'll have to remove the things of real importance from the house. Anne will see to that."

"I'm sure the servants can see to it," expressed Mrs. Russell when Anne did not object.

"Oh. No, Valeria. Anne has already specified that we make some cut backs, and since we won't be living in the house…" she shrugged, but her smugness was apparent to the older woman. "The new renters can see to their own help."

"You don't mean to let all of the staff go!" Mrs. Russell looked astonished at the eldest Elliot daughter.

"Certainly not," spoke Mr. Elliot, looking at Elizabeth. "We will have to have the butler and chef, my assistant, Dosier, and your maid…a housekeeper…"

Anne then spoke, "Dad, I have already sought out a very experienced cook and Dosier will go with you. There will be a housekeeper that comes in weekly-"

"A housekeeper that comes in? What about a butler? I will not live like a gypsy!"

"Dad, we'll get our own place and hire a new butler. Don't worry," Elizabeth waved away his remarks. She was completely persuaded that Manhattan was where they needed to be.


	2. Valeria's Blunder

**The name of the musical academy in this work is fictitious and is not tied in any way to an existing institution.**

Chapter 2

Anne was in the middle of a room full of boxes when Mrs. Russell walked through the open doorway. Turning toward her, Anne worried, "I hope I haven't forgotten anything that Dad wanted put away."

"Did he give you a list? I can check it off for you."

"This is the list," stated Anne doubtfully, displaying a memo sheet with six or seven scrawled entries.

The older woman took the paper, perused it, and clicked her tongue. "He is very vague, is he not?"

"Yes," Anne laughed, "that is why I am sure to have missed something."

"I don't think it matters. What are the chances that he is ever going to need his," she looked at the list again, "'Monogrammed ruby and pearl Pool Towels from Ws.'?"

Anne giggled. "I suspect he just doesn't want to leave them hanging in the pool lounge. They might get used!" Her eyes were wide with feigned horror. But Mrs. Russell, knowing her so well, could not help but notice how her shoulders slumped and the laughter was forced. The motherly woman looked at the girl before her. Anne certainly wasn't an adolescent anymore, but her tiny frame and timid manners gave that impression. There was a tense silence in the room as Valeria Russell tried to sort out whether Anne was depressed due to leaving, or was it because of something else?

"Still, I want to protect the things he treasures," Anne stated thoughtfully. This was a hint to Mrs. Russell not to ask the question on the tip of her tongue.

"You are a good daughter, Anne. You have always been…" her voice trailed off.

"Very obedient?" The words, though stated quietly, had sarcasm behind them that surprised the older woman. Anne dropped her eyes quickly and busied herself with the stack of sheet music she had been putting away. Silence ensued while Mrs. Russell chose her words. The topic foremost in Anne's mind was now evident.

"You are still very young, my dear."

"I'm 27. I don't call that young."

"At my age you do." The well-groomed woman of fifty-four pulled on the folds of her indigo-blue sash that hung loosely across her trim middle. "Anne, I have never pressed you, but – why? Why did you leave your music? Why do you not pursue your singing career?"

Anne stopped her work and leaned over the half-packed box. The girl's long, thin hair hung down so that her face was hidden from her companion, but Valeria could see that her fingers grasped the sides of the cardboard box tightly. "I lost the desire. Ever since…Leri, do you ever look back and wonder if your advice might have been too-" Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink now as she turned and looked at the woman.

"I mean, I think I could have been happy. I think we could have-"

"Oh, Anne, don't think on that. It was a long time ago. I was afraid this would happen with Elizabeth bringing up his name the other day. I wish I could have wrapped that vicious boa of _Penelope's_ around her face a couple of times." Valeria Russell pretended to wrap the invisible boa around her own neck, her lovely almond-shaped eyes twinkling.

Anne laughed at her gentle effort to make her forget her sorrow. And the older woman took it as a sign that she might wrap her arm around the downcast girl's thin arms. Anne rested her head on the woman's scented shoulder.

"I have tried to be like a mother to you since Christine passed," Valeria said quietly.

"I know," whispered Anne, and the tears welled up in her eyes.

"You are so much like your mother. It's very hard to know what you're thinking…but you have a good head on your shoulders. And your heart is true and…so strong. Chrissy used to say, 'I won't quit dancing until I know my heart has stopped beating.' And that's how she lived, day to day, even through the treatments until she just…"

Anne was sobbing softly now, and the older woman gently gathered and pulled back the strands of hair that fell in her god-daughter's face. "She loved you so. She loved your voice. Someday you will sing for her again, won't you?"

She held Anne's shoulders and looked into her deep, almost black eyes. She could see the stirring of sentimental emotions within, but there was no flame or passion. The girl just smiled a tight line. "Perhaps someday I can." With a calm hand, the girl wiped her own tears from her cheeks.

Valeria kissed Anne on the forehead and changed the subject. "I've decided to stay with a friend in New York for a while." She was straightening a picture nearby when Anne looked up. "I know, I know," she sighed in reply to the surprised expression on Anne's face. "But I thought it over, and someone needs to keep your father and sister from finding a new way to spend the money they don't have while you are with Mary. You will have your hands so full with Charles and Walter, you'll hardly miss me, you know."

Anne looked thoughtful, then nodded. "I can't help but wish they would have agreed to the expense plan I drew up. I am still convinced that they will not be able to live in New York very long if they don't change their spending habits."

"Anne, you can't expect them to change the way they have lived for years overnight. Your father has never been good with money, and before he retired, he never had to be."

"Yes, but a smaller home a few hours from here would have-"

"They could not take a smaller home in the area; it would have mortified your father. And you must remember his reputation. People would talk, and he would lose his influence. You know how hard that would be for him," reasoned the older woman.

Anne merely pursed her lips. She had never seen eye-to-eye with her father, who lived according to the expectations of others.

"You will be in the city before your classes begin, won't you?" queried Valeria.

"I'm not sure. It depends on whether there is any room."

Mrs. Russell's eyes narrowed. "There'd better be room." Then as an aside to herself she said, "Calculating pig." Anne pretended not to hear her. If there was one thing the younger woman detested, it was discussing Mrs. Penelope Clay. She already knew Mrs. Russell's disgust for the woman. And, she owned, there was good reason for it. But she would much rather spend her time getting things done around the house for the new tenants than rehash the shortcomings of her older sister's best friend.

"You'll come to dinner at my place tonight."

"Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you."

"In fact, why don't you just stay at my house for the rest of the week? I won't be leaving 'til Monday anyway. I have a few appointments before I can tie things up here." She came and placed her hands on Anne's shoulders. "We can have a girl's night, like we used to before you went off to the Academy!" The moment the words slipped out, Valeria knew she'd made a serious mistake. She'd brought up the old wound again and was considering how to assuage the hurt feelings when Anne spoke.

"I really don't think I'll have everything ready if I stay over. But I will dine with you each night, if you don't mind." The emotionless Anne had returned. It surprised Mrs. Russell to note her calm complaisance. But, then, it was rare for the older woman to find her god-child in the tender mood she'd witnessed earlier. It was best to bow out now before she made another blunder.

Mrs. Russell went back home to work on her traveling preparations. She instructed her chef to prepare Anne's favorite dessert. Then she went up to her dressing room to look over her wardrobe. She would need to send Pamela out the next morning to select more appropriate attire for her Manhattan visit. Looking over her suits, she began to think of the Academy again and the cloud of despondency that had come over Anne Elliot the moment she'd left the singing school.

She blamed herself entirely for taking the girl to Paris, for even offering to tour the grounds with Anne! A beautiful, historic site outside of Paris, the Berenger Academie de Musique was one of the world's top dancing schools and well-known for its authority in voice instruction. The results were inevitable; the daughter was already enamored with the idea of attending her mother's alma mater.

Anne's mother, Christine Stevenson, had been an exquisite dancer but had postponed her career to be with her children. For a dancer and a famous violinist to bring forth an exceptional singer was not that common an occurrence, yet neither was it unheard of. Christine Elliot had doted on her three daughters. Elizabeth was by far the beauty, though Anne had been considered a pretty girl as well. Mary, the youngest, had married at twenty-one, though her mother had passed long before the marriage took place.

Christine Elliot died when Anne was fourteen; and so hard did the girl take it, that she threw herself into her music religiously, as though the lyrics and arrangements were her doctrine. So Anne, at the blossoming age of seventeen, went to The Berenger Academy of Music to study musical theory and receive vocal instruction. Valeria had been delighted with her progress, visiting every month to check on the motherless girl. For Elliot, though proud of his daughter's future distinction, was more pleased with gaining attention in his celebrity than in giving attention to his maturing daughter's interests.

A year went by, and Anne did not lose her zeal for her art. Yet her instructors expressed doubts in her ability to perform; she was too shy, too self-conscious. By sheer determination, Anne was able to persuade the school to let her stay on another year. She begged to continue, promising a vast improvement in her singing. That should have been a warning sign to Valeria Russell that something was amiss. Anne was not the type of child to put herself forth with promises.

Yet, in that second year, Mrs. Russell witnessed an incredible improvement in the vocal abilities of her favorite god-child. Anne's voice had excelled all expectations, not only of Mrs. Russell's own knowledge of good training, but also that of Anne's instructor. She made it a point to speak with her vocal instructor in congratulations and found that the teacher immediately denied having been the cause of such an immense transformation.

Valeria Russell's eyes closed in pain as she sat upon the brocade couch in her dressing room holding a pale blue scarf crumpled in her fingers. She should have known by the girl's eyes that there was more to the mystery than a great instructor. Anne, when confronted, had completely admitted all: she had a dear friend who knew the music of her soul. Her innocent, guileless manner, her euphoric expression and expectation of sharing this joy with her god-mother made Valeria want to give ready approval. Yet the older woman knew better than to trust as a child; she was cautious as a mother.

"_When shall I meet him?" Mrs. Russell asked her god-daughter, smiling at the child-like way Anne clasped her tapered fingers to her heart._

"_Oh," Anne's gaze dropped. "I would love for you to meet him, but he is very sensitive to being viewed by strangers."_

"_Why?" bells tolled their warning within the older woman._

"_Well, I can't tell you why. I am in his confidence. Very few are. His sister and I are the only ones he feels he can trust." Anne walked over to her bed and began to straighten the creases in the coverlet. "But I will talk to him about meeting with you the next time you visit."_

"_I will be happy to stay overnight and meet him tomorrow."_

"_I don't think that's a good idea…"_

_Valeria Russell could not help but gaze inquisitively at the girl at this point. Yet Anne continued to walk around the dorm room, pretending to go through her class work. Then she gave up and sighed, "Very well. I want to see him the next time I visit, though."_

_Anne turned and hugged her god-mother with such jubilation, it surprised Mrs. Russell. For Anne was of such a quiet, unassuming nature. "You will love him," she stated in the older woman's ear. And Valeria Russell felt how much this child desired her approval._

_And she felt she must approve, for he had certainly helped Anne's genius, as well as pulled the usually shy girl out of herself. It had always concerned Valeria Russell that Anne would not be a great performer if she did not gain confidence in her skill. Surely this boy had not only given her confidence but honed her voice to gain true mastery. Who could he be?_

Mrs. Russell looked up from her couch and into the vanity before her. The deep creases on her forehead told her anguish. He had not been as she'd hoped: a man of twenty-three, but a haunted shell of one. He knew no future but Anne. Valeria had felt the despair of his existence while in his presence. He loved the voice of her god-daughter, but it was not her voice that captivated him. He knew he had no right to a relationship with the budding singer. Yet Anne, in her touching way, had no notion of the pedestal on which she stood in the sad eyes of a worshipful Frederik Wentworth. Anne Elliot, at eighteen years old, was the object of passionate devotion by that tragic man.

"_He does not believe that people can really understand him with his deformity," Anne raised her hand to her face as she explained Frederik to her god-mother after the meeting._

"_I did notice something strange about his features, but it was dark," spoke Mrs. Russell._

"_He doesn't like people to look on him. He is very self-conscious."_

"_I see. What do you know of his past, sweetheart?" The term of endearment was too much. Anne looked at her reproachfully._

"_You don't like him, Leri?"_

"_I didn't say I didn't like him, I just-"_

"_What?" Anne's eyes expressed confusion._

"_He has been through much, I believe." Valeria sighed and then tried to be straightforward._

"_Anne, you are eighteen."_

"_Yes..." Anne looked suspicious now._

"_While I understand your enthusiasm for the new world Mr. Wentworth has introduced to you, I don't think you realize the...situation you're putting yourself in."_

"_I don't understand," Anne stated, flatly._

"_I know," Valeria found herself thinking aloud, "but he does!"_

_Anne looked down at the food on her plate. "He said you wouldn't like him."_

"_I never said I didn't like him."_

"_But you don't want me to be his friend."_

"_Well,-"_

"_What else does that mean but that you don't like him?" Her eyes were pleading with her god-mother to give some sort of approval now._

"_I'm afraid for you, Anne," said the older woman bluntly. Then softly, "He may not just want to be your teacher."_

_Anne's eyes dropped back to her plate and Valeria knew. The young girl was aware of Frederik Wentworth's love._

"_I think it's best if we don't talk about this any further." Anne's words were stated quietly, but decisively._

Mrs. Russell got up from her couch, scolding herself for the reverie. She would not look back on the pain of her god-child. She had done the best she could in the place of Christine. Furthermore, she had done the right thing. Anne had been a budding singer preparing for a career promising to surpass that of her mother and perhaps even her father. Frederik Wentworth had only been a lost man then, whose unfulfilled life would have destroyed the girl. Just because the man was famous now did not change that fact.


	3. The BlackRibboned Missive

**To alleviate any confusion: **

**With the exception of the references to Anne's mother, the names "Anne" and "Christine" represent the same person. Her names are being interchanged to signify her frame of mind.**

Chapter 3 – The Black-Ribboned Missive

Anne, along with the aid of the houseman, had stored up every trifling thing of interest to her father and had the majority of the furnishings, which her father had demanded not to be used by the new renters, stored in the rooms over one of the detached garages. All of Elizabeth's keepsakes which did not go with the older sister, Anne took great pains to preserve and catalog. By the end of the week, the tired woman had found little time to go through her own private mementos before the movers' arrival. The gardener had been retained due to Mr. Wentworth's request, but otherwise the remaining household staff that did not move with the family had been let go. Anne found the great house too quiet and was rather relieved she would leave it soon. There was an emptiness in it she had not felt since before she went to teach in New York.

It wasn't that Walter Elliot or his daughter, Elizabeth, took any notice of Anne when she stayed with them. They could care less whether she returned from her music school or not. It was Anne's decision to return, having done so for six summers since teaching at the Archibald School of Music.

The Great Elliot desired only to bask in the importance of his position as a legendary musician. He and Elizabeth were of one mind on this point. They would invite any number of friends into their home, chartering private jets to fly large parties in for weekends. Elizabeth was fond of keeping up with the latest caprices of the wealthy, accompanying her father when appearing at the most fashionable and highly-publicized events. Though this felicity had diminished somewhat in the last two years due to The Great Elliot's retirement, it did not stop the father and daughter from putting forth the money to entertain or be entertained lavishly. Those who continued to grace the Elliot mansion with their presence found the conversation somewhat lacking, the discourse resting mainly on the misfortunes of others of their acquaintance. Still, many respected the violin master of the past three, almost four, decades and deemed it best to ignore his childish vanity and selfish need to put self above others by speaking ill of their looks and taste.

Anne found her father's manner inconsiderate but did not try to go against him. She knew it was pointless to try to change him in his old age and only hoped that he would continue to be happy in the superficial life he led. Yes, she had always been an obedient daughter; not willful, like Elizabeth, or self-absorbed, like Mary. And her resourcefulness with her own financial matters had been the impetus for Walter Elliot's attorney, Mr. Shepherd, to contact her regarding the danger of her father's situation. She had instigated the meeting, bringing in Mrs. Russell to persuade and Mr. Shepherd to instruct. Even if her father and sister could not be compelled toward a regimen to begin paying back what they owed, at least they were not living as extravagantly at present. She felt assured that Walter Elliot's old circle in New York would enjoy hosting the celebrity and his daughter, offering a variety of entertainments for a short while.

So Anne, though not happy, found herself content with the business her father and sister thrust upon her. She had gone about packing busily until she came to her own room. She would not own why she wished to avoid a perusal of her own treasures but prepared her mind, started to pack mechanically, and failed desperately in avoiding the notice of relics of her mother's love. Even thirteen years later it was painful to look on the script of her mother's hand.

"Anne says she will sing in a pink dress one day, and I will dance while she sings." The words on the paper caught her attention as she placed a picture of a stick figure, made by a small child's hand, into the box. Her emotions flooded her throat. She swallowed and reached to cover the tender display of her mother's love with a pile of pages. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground from the stack she was holding. She bent down to pick it up and froze.

_My Christine, you sang like an angel tonight. _

_I will meet you beyond the door in the old Opera chapel._

_Your devoted, Erik._

A frayed black ribbon was still attached to the epistle. Anne remembered; it had held a single red rose. It had been nine years since she'd thought of herself as Christine. It was he who had first called her by her middle name, her mother's name. As though in a trance, Christine placed the note to her heart and began to walk through the doorway of her room down the stairs.

_Through the hidden doorway of the old chapel and down the stairs she glided. Her heart beat quickly. He would be here to meet her. He would be close, and they would be alone again. It had been months since she'd seen him. She had promised her godmother she would not see him again. Valeria had said he was dangerous! He was not what he seemed!_

_But she knew from the red rose and the inscription "Your devoted" that he was hers. He loved her, and she had sung for him. She had given her heart, her all tonight, and he had heard every note. He knew her performance was meant to call to him._

_It was wrong for her to have deceived her god-mother, telling her she was too tired to celebrate. She had excused herself to rest, and Mrs. Russell had not protested. And now she walked quickly through the passage; she knew he was waiting._

_She found him there and slowed her pace. He stepped toward her, still dressed in his disguise. Ah! So he had been one of the guardsmen in the masquerade scene! The black cloak around his shoulders made him seem taller, and the glistening grimace, a mask over his face, put her in doubt. Was this the man she loved?_

"_Christine!" he whispered. And she knew it was he and reached out to him._

"_I sang for you, Erik." she whispered simply. He was touching her hair, then her cheek as though he did not believe she was really there. His fingers rested on her lips for a moment, and the sensation drew her breath away. How had she resisted being close to him for so long? He was why she sang! Without him, she could not be happy or whole._

"_Come with me, Christine. We will run away together."_

"_Run away?" the idea was so novel, she could not grasp the meaning. She just wanted to be beside him, aware of nothing else around her._

"_Will you marry me, my angel? Will you promise to be my wife? I will make you so happy; you know we will be happy." These words were so strange. They floated around her like wisps of potent incense, heightening that first spell of love she was experiencing._

"_How can you lie to her, Erik?" came the response. But it was not her own. "How can you tell her she will be happy, knowing you are causing her to choose between you and her own family and friends and her future?"_

_Erik's sister came from behind the wall of an adjacent doorway into the corridor and faced the couple. Sophia Giry's face was one of both fear and fury._

"_How can you ask her to give up everything to come and live with you? You have nothing, brother. You can give her nothing." Erik stood speechless, still gripping the hand of the girl he adored. "And how will she feel about her husband in a year or two? Will she celebrate the fact that she can not leave your side but must hide in the shadows as your captive wife?"_

"_She can go where she pleases…"_

"_I only want to be with him…" were the simultaneous answers._

"_You do not know what you want, Anne."_

"_You're wrong!" shouted Erik, his rage boiling within him. Christine backed away, afraid, for she knew enough of his temper to withdraw herself._

"_She has shown where her heart lies. It is up to her to decide what she wants."_

"_And if she decides she doesn't want to go with you?"_

"_You heard what she said!" exclaimed the brother, infuriated._

_The passion of the man was overwhelming. His presence was overpowering her senses, always overpowering her ability to think clearly. Christine found herself pressed against the wall as his figure seemed to loom over the two women before him._

"_I heard what she said. And she never said she would give up who she is for you." Erik looked down at Christine now, but she could not see the doubt in his eyes because of the mask. Sophia did not wish to give the confused girl time to respond. "And what if she should decide not to elope with you, Erik? What would you do then?"_

"_I would have nothing to live for." The words were a desperate cry of anguish. At that moment, Christine felt him pull away from her spirit._

"_Come, Anne," persuaded Sophia Giry grabbing her arm, "Mrs. Russell is waiting for us outside the chapel." The thought of her god-mother knowing her deception was enough to bring Anne to her senses. "Leri? She knows?"_

"_Yes. She's been warned all along."_

_Anne turned back to Erik, but he was gone, as though he had vanished into the darkness around him. There was an ache in the pit of her stomach at the thought of his last words. What would he do without her? He needed her. She followed Erik's sister out into the moonlight of the old Opera building. There__ Valeria Russell rushed to her and hugged her. It surprised Anne to find so much attachment within her for the woman. The smell of her hair was so familiar; it was not her mother's smell, but a comforting scent all the same._

_Then the thought came to her: 'What would her mother want her to do?' Her god-mother pulled back and looked at her with an astonished expression. "Why, Anne? Why would you lie to me?"_

"_Oh, Leri! I don't know. I don't know!" There was silence as the two older women stared at her. They expected her to give more explanation. But she did not know why. She answered in the only way she could answer herself:_

"_He loves me."_

"_Of course, he does! But Anne, this is not what you were meant for. You have your whole life ahead of you."_

"_Come," said Sophia, looking around her. All three women felt the eerie silence of the atmosphere outside the old building. "Let's go back."_

"_Anne, you do not know my brother." Erik's sister handed her a cup of tea as Anne nestled on the bed beside Valeria Russell. The older woman had not taken her arm from the girl's shoulder since they reached the dorm. "Honestly, I hardly know him now!"_

_Sophia Giry sat upon the chair in front of Anne's desk. "Granted, he wasn't always so...intense. It was only after the accident, the death of Mom and Dad, that he became so, so volatile. And, like I told Mrs. Russell, I apologize for ever allowing your meetings to go on. I thought you could help him. He has so much talent, and he was becoming unreachable. At first you had such a positive effect on him. And I thought he would be good for you, too. Your voice-"_

"_He has done wonders for your mastery, there is no doubt," interrupted Mrs. Russell. "But what is he doing to help you now?"_

"_He is still the same. He still wants me to sing."_

"_Tell me, how are you going to travel and perform when he is here? Do you think he is going to allow you to go anywhere without him? And, you know, he cannot allow himself to be seen by anyone." Anne's empty expression empowered the two women to continue._

"_You have a true genius for greatness, Anne. Don't let this man take that from you." Mrs. Russell's words were adding to her frustration._

"_But he isn't taking anything from me!"_

"_That's why he wanted you to meet him tonight, isn't it? Against your god-mother's wishes?" posed Sophia. When Anne did not speak, she continued._

"_He is causing you to turn from the people you love."_

"_No, he's not," stated Anne, unconvinced._

"_Tell me, would you have gone with him tonight?" questioned Sophia again._

"_Gone?"_

"_Yes, he was ready to run away with you tonight."_

_Now the truth dawned on Anne. The seriousness of the situation had only been a blurred dream before. "He wanted me to go away tonight?"_

"_He had everything prepared. That is how I came to find out."_

"_Well, tell me this," said Anne in a last effort__ "Why do you think he would not go with me - travel abroad - if he was going to run away with me in the first place?"_

_Sophia Giry's sigh was exasperated. "He was taking you to Lyon, Anne, just two hours away."_

"_But, why?"_

"_Because there is a man there that would marry you, no questions asked." Anne looked dumbfounded now._

"_I spoke with him myself. And I am sure you can guess where you would have lived." Anne understood, but did not respond._

"_He had the rooms ready for you. Tell me, do you like the thought of living away from the world in a home with no windows?" There was silence for a moment as both women looked upon the young girl._

"_Is that what you want, Anne?" asked Valeria Russell gently. Anne did not answer. "Do you want to live with this man in the underground of the old opera house for the rest of your days? Is that what your mother would want for her child?" asked Mrs. Russell, undeterred._

_The tears were streaming down Anne's face now. The reference to her mother, a repetition of her own thoughts, was too much. She did not know what she wanted. The older women knew it. Sophia Giry was the first to leave, apologizing quietly to the distraught girl before she left the room. Then her god-mother kissed her and promised to check on her in the morning._

_She lay in the darkness with her eyes open, staring up at the streak of moonlight from the window that spread across the ceiling. What would she do without him? She had been so unhappy since their two-month separation. Then she remembered her elation as she saw him waiting in the hall only a few hours before. He was so beautiful to her when she was with him. But he was so unhappy. Even when she tried to cheer him up, there was always that hint that the moment she left, his despair would return. What would happen if she became his? Would he be happy? Would it last for a while, and then he would turn them both to his morbid musings once more?_

"_Oh, mother," she stated to the darkness. "I know you sent him to help me, but what can I do to help him?"_

"_What should I do?" she asked the silence around her again. There was no answer, but she knew that it was not her role to be with him in that lonely place under the opera house. He would never be happy there, and she could not change him. That sleepless night she endured the most painful decision of the heart: to leave her childish love behind and give the selfless love of a woman. Even though he would hate her for it._

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**followthestory: You guessed it! Thanks for the encouragement. Your reviews are treasured.**


	4. Sisterly Consolation

Chapter 4 – Sisterly Consolation

Anne departed the week before the new inhabitants of the house of The Great Elliot were to move in. It had already been established that they were to take their walk-through once the family moved out. Anne, herself, deemed it best not to be there. It was not her desire to be questioned about the house, nor did she like the thought of viewing her home through a stranger's eyes. She felt no animosity toward the new tenants, only a need for privacy in the sentiments she felt for the place.

Mrs. Russell was delighted to be able to drive Anne to Mary's home on her way to the airport. They parted once Mrs. Russell had been given Anne's promise that she would call her every day. Yet Anne knew that it was usually the busy Valeria who was remiss at returning calls.

Anne was met immediately by the boisterous cries of her two nephews, Charles and Walter. Walter was caked in mud, sprawled out in the foyer. When Anne took him by the hand to lead him into the bathroom, she came upon Mary lying on the sofa with a towel over her eyes.

"Is that you, Anne?" she asked weakly. "I thought you would never come. Really, I expected you last Thursday."

"You knew I was coming today. Didn't you get my email? Yes, I know you did. You responded with such a happy reply, it made my day."

"Oh, Anne. I really wasn't happy. I just didn't want to depress you." Mary had removed the towel by now and was speaking loudly to Anne as the older sister took Walter back to the bathtub.

"Where's Charles?" Anne asked her younger sister.

"Oh, Anne. You are so lucky not to be married. It really is the height of misery. He is out golfing…again." Charles Musgrove, Mary's husband, was a physician in his father's practice. His father, Richard Musgrove, had paved the way for his first-born, having established himself as a very talented plastic reconstructive surgeon. Colleagues the world over contacted him for his advice and expertise; he was well-known for his capabilities in the most serious of cases. The son enjoyed the rewards of his father's toil. Not that anyone believed Mary's husband to be a disreputable surgeon; Charles was just content with the niche his father had carved for him and did not aspire to more. And though Anne sometimes heaved a relieved sigh that she had declined Charles' proposal of marriage, she was glad that he had then become interested in Mary. She liked the easy-going manner of her brother-in-law and knew that he was a perfect match for her hypochondriacally-inclined sister.

Mary huffed about on the sofa for a few moments before following Anne to the bathroom, leaning her shoulder against the frame of the door. "I have been here all day, and no one has come to see how I'm getting on. Really! I could be dying and everyone would go about their day as if – 'Oh, Mary is fine. There's nothing wrong with her.' It's as though they want me to pretend that my head isn't going to explode with the pain I'm enduring. Well, I do try to pretend for their sakes. But, really! I can only endure so much." Mary pressed her back up to the doorpost and moaned. She let her body slide down until she was sitting on the floor; her legs sprawled out in the hallway.

"And Charles just left me here this morning. He left at 7 am – told me he was going golfing. And I said to him, 'What about me? You're not just going to leave me here with the boys while you go play?' Do you know what he said?" Anne directed Walter to tilt back his head so that she could rinse his sudsy hair.

Mary did not wait for a response. "He said, 'I'll only be out for a couple of hours.' And that was seven hours ago!" Mary continued to moan for a moment. Anne turned to find a towel for the clean, but dripping, Walter. Mary watched her sister search the closet. "They are all in the laundry room. Sheila won't be back 'til tomorrow, and I've been too sick to fold them myself." The younger sister did not bother to get up as Anne walked over her and headed to retrieve the missing towel.

"What happened to Jenny?" she asked as she came back with the towel.

"She had to take a day off today," Mary moaned again. "I tell you, she takes more days off than she works."

"Why don't you get someone else to help you with the boys, then?"

"Oh," Mary was picking crusted food off her t-shirt, "it doesn't matter who I hire, somebody over _there_ doesn't like her." Mary motioned in the direction of the house of the Richard Musgroves. Charles and Mary's wedding gift had been the two-story residence they now inhabited which was approximately three acres in distance from his parents' house. While Charles did not make the income or live in the style of his parents, he would someday inherit from the wealthy surgeon.

The Grand Manor, as it was called jestingly by the younger ones, housed not only Dr. and Mrs. Musgrove but also Charles' two younger sisters, Louisa, 22, and Henrietta,19, who had returned from college for the summer.

"Do you know they never come to visit?" Mary began to pull herself up off the floor as Anne carried Walter up to his room. She stumbled up the steps behind them with a "you need a bath, too," to her older son still playing in the foyer.

"We never see them; it's like they run from me. And when my mother-in-law takes the boys, which is rare, they come back hyper from all the candy they've eaten! I'm very depressed, and it's very trying."

Two-year-old Walter was shouting over his mother. Once Anne calmed the boy, his mother continued.

"Anyway, I can't get any real help, and I'm cooped up in this house all the time!"

"Well, I'm here now and you can relax," soothed Anne.

"Hmm…his clean shirts are in the laundry room," she said as his aunt opened an empty drawer.

It was a whole two hours before Mary decided she was well enough to go with Anne and the boys to visit the Grand Manor. "Really! It is so rude for them not to have been here by now, and I know they know you are here because I told Charles to tell them when he went with his dad this morning."

"But, Mary, I'm not really company. I'm your sister."

"Oh, Anne. I am not one to complain about such silly insignificances generally; it's just the principle of it."

Both the Musgrove sisters and their mother were delighted to see Anne and within minutes had her seated in the music room to listen to Louisa's latest passion: the acquisition of a harp. Henrietta sat down at the piano and they played a lovely duet for their audience.

"Isn't it glorious?" gushed Louisa. "I told Dad he shouldn't have, but he knew I just had to have it when I saw it at the expo. It's too perfect," she said, plucking the strings lovingly, "and I'm going to practice until my fingers are nubs."

"And he also said I get to play it, too. So let me have a go." Henrietta was ready to show off her own skills when a loud commotion from the hall brought the playing to a halt. Shortly thereafter, Charles and his father entered.

"Ah, there you are. I knew if the boys were here, we might be entertaining visitors." Richard winked at Anne. "How are you, my dear?"

"I am well, thank you." She got up to embrace the patriarch of the family while her sister pretended to ignore her husband. Anne felt a deep regard for the Musgroves, and they treated her like she was their own.

"Sorry we're late getting back," Charles spoke to the group as a whole, but everyone knew the words were really meant for Mary. "Dad had an old client contact him, and we ended up going out for a late lunch with the man."

"Yes, so you see, it was all my fault," the older Musgrove stated, sitting down in a plush recliner. He didn't look the least bit sorry for it. His temperament was just as easy-going as his son's in many ways. "Play a little jig then, girl. I didn't buy that harp for you girls just to sit and look pretty with it." Dr. Musgrove did not take pains within his family circle to conceal that he was a man of humble beginnings.

"You don't 'jig' on a harp, Dad," Louisa admonished but played a few notes of a song on the piano, and Henrietta began her accompaniment. Charles came and sat down beside Anne for a moment. "You made it, then."

"Yes. And we are completely moved out."

For a moment Charles looked lost but then remembered. "Ah, yes. Your family is in New York?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure they are enjoying it." Charles still sat, and Anne listened to his sisters' music.

"I wish I could take Mary sometime. She would like to get away for a while." Anne had been prepared for his avenue of thought. Everyone in the Musgrove household looked to Anne to bring peace to the two houses.

"I suppose she told you she is sick." He looked over at Mary who was still sulking and looking in the direction where Henrietta was playing the harp. "I wish she wouldn't think she is sick all the time. Perhaps you could talk with her about it while you're here. She always listens to you, Anne."

Later it was Mrs. Musgrove's turn to relate some distress. "Anne, I love Mary. You know that. It's just…I'm having a problem with the boys, and I think it's because they are not being handled well at home. They fight and break things constantly when they come over. The only way I can keep them from destroying my rugs is to bribe them with sweets. Do you think you might give Mary some tips for controlling the boys? You are so good with them, you know."

Louisa, ever the talker, spoke with Anne at length about the situation between the Mrs. Musgroves. "You and I are close, so I don't think you will take it wrong when I tell you that your sister is not very nice to Mama. The other night at the Poole's party Mary mentioned to Mrs. Poole that she and Charles should have been sent their own invitation and not just invited as inclusive of Mama and Daddy's family. Then she said – right in front of Mama – 'my family has been known in this circle much longer anyway.' And you know how Mama already feels out of place here. I would appreciate it so much if you would just hint to Mary that she doesn't have to throw it in Mama's face about her upbringing, you know?"

There was little Anne could do about these remarks but listen and sympathize. She loved them all, including Mary.


	5. A Dinner at the Musgroves'

Chapter 5 – A Dinner at the Musgroves'

"Anne, where are you?" This had become Mary's cant when Anne was in the house. It was getting monotonous after nine days.

"I'm in the bathroom."

Mary was practically leaping down the hallway. "Guess what? Guess what? We are invited to a dinner at the Musgroves' tonight."

"Yes?" Anne was washing Walter's hands at the sink.

"Well, it's not just a dinner – I mean, it is a very important dinner. We are being invited because Dr. Musgrove is having an old client of his over, and he wants it to be more relaxed. So, we are all to go tonight. You, too. Jenny will watch the boys."

"And why is this so exciting?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm glad to get out of the house. And we will get to meet new people! Oh, and we need to dress up. It's that kind of dinner. Charles said his business is something to do with software for musicians. You should be interested in that."

Anne walked into the Musgroves' living room and was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Edward Wentworth. Her fingers became icy cold, but she tried not to show her surprise. Surely this strange coincidence was easily explained.

"And this is Anne Elliot," introduced Dr. Musgrove.

"Elliot?" asked Edward Wentworth.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Walter Elliot?" The man said it as though he were jesting.

Anne smiled and released a nervous laugh. "Yes, I'm his daughter. You've just moved into the house, haven't you?"

"Well," Mr. Wentworth looked at his wife in authentic surprise and confusion. "I didn't know-"

"I am Walter Elliot's youngest daughter," stated Mary, smiling.

"Oh. Now I see." There was laughter by everyone; then Mr. Wentworth said, apologetically, "I hope we didn't throw you out of your house, Ms. Elliot."

"No, not at all. I am only here for the summer; I live in New York."

"Oh, good."

"Edward here is a very old friend," stated Richard Musgrove to Anne and Mary. "In fact, if it hadn't been for him, I don't think my reputation would be what it is."

"Nonsense. You are the best reconstructive surgeon I know. Everyone knows that now. But I still can't thank you enough."

Everyone who was listening to this conversation was smiling, but a bit mystified. The question on everyone's mind was, 'what kind of reconstruction was done?' It was natural to look on the man and try to ascertain where some scar or irregularity might have been apparent. But there was no point in asking the question; it was a matter of privacy between the surgeon and his patient.

"So, how is your brother?" asked the old doctor now.

"Don't you know?" Dr. Musgrove looked taken aback.

"He's famous! In fact, his production is going to be in New York in the fall." Anne felt something drop from her throat to the pit of her stomach. Could it be possible that this man was Frederik's brother? She did not want to believe it. As she contemplated the news, Edward Wentworth was turning to her.

"You say you live in New York, right? You should definitely make plans to see it one night. It is astounding. I saw it in Paris."

"And Alsace…and Brussels. For a total of eight times," pointed out Laticia Wentworth, a chagrined expression on her face.

Edward looked sheepish, and the family laughed. "Well, a man can be proud of his brother, can't he? Especially after all he's been through."

Once they sat down to eat, the conversation turned to Mr. Wentworth's profession.

"Anne is a singing instructor in New York," explained Mary.

"Really! What software do you use to set up your musical scores, or do you use any, Ms. Elliot?"

"It's 'Anne,' and I do that rarely."

"Well, it really is a simple set-up. My brother uses it for his compositions. He has been able to coordinate an entire run-through and hear how it will sound without touching an instrument. Of course, he loves to play the piano."

"He plays other instruments, too," interjected Mrs. Wentworth.

"Well, look who's the fan now," smiled Edward.

"Now, now, I adore Frederik."

Anne looked down at her plate now. The sensations of realizing that she was in company with Frederik's brother and knowing that Edward Wentworth knew nothing of her acquaintance with him were overwhelming. She hardly knew how to act or feel.

"Yes, so do I. Especially since his brilliant ideas have made me so much money." Mr. Wentworth smiled at his wife and laughed at his own joke. His wife looked somewhat abashed at his openness.

But Richard Musgrove was not one to concern himself with the fine points of dining conversation etiquette. He smiled heartily and stated, "Your brother; give him my regards."

"You can give them to him yourself in a few days. He'll be coming to stay with us on the 9th. Isn't that right, Laticia?" Mrs. Wentworth nodded, and he continued. (Anne's spoon missed her chocolate mousse and clattered on the dish.) "Then he heads off to Florida."

"He travels a lot these days," added Mrs. Wentworth.

"It must be very exciting," approved Mary, looking at her husband across the table. Mary had not stopped badgering Charles about going on a vacation since Anne had come to stay with them.

The Wentworths and the Musgroves got on so well together it seemed to everyone involved that they would continue to enjoy one another's company. Louisa and Henrietta, having absented themselves from the dinner, returned before anyone was ready for the guests to leave, and having been asked, eagerly assented to play a "jig or two" for the Wentworths. Before the end of the evening, Dr. Musgrove and Mr. Wentworth had made plans for another dinner at the Musgroves', once Frederik could be with them.

Anne went straight up to her room after returning from the Grand Manor and did not wait to say goodnight to Mary or Charles. She dressed for bed mechanically and turned out the light. It was only when the room was dark that the tears spilled over. She did not make it to the bed but found herself on the floor trying to stifle the gasps that _would_ escape her lips.

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**followthestory: A little suspense is a lot of fun. (evil cackling) So glad you are still enjoying the story.**

**novaya zemlya: They are two of my favorites, too. Thanks for reviewing!**


	6. Come to Me

Chapter 6

Anne felt as though her world were spinning around her. The motion had begun with the name 'Wentworth' in her older sister's hearing weeks before, and now it had escalated to the impossible inevitability that Frederik Wentworth would be sitting across the table from her in a little over a week.

Nine years ago, when she left the Academy, she had harbored a hope of seeing him again. She had fully believed that her decision to leave would, in fact, spark a determination in him to break away from his underground prison. She had honored the wishes of her god-mother, having believed in the wisdom of her cautious words, and had not met or communicated with Erik Wentworth for the remainder of the year. She had even followed the advice of Sophia Giry and moved in with her daughter, Meg, until exams were over. There had been no reason for her stay at the Academy; and she had been ready to graduate and move on with her career. But she had worried that he had not understood her resolve.

_Meg Giry walked into the dorm room as Anne sat at her desk studying. "Well, that exam is done, and if I ever have to think about any dancers from 1800 back, it will be too soon." She huffed and crossed her long, thin legs on the bed._

"_What are you studying?" For a moment, Anne felt somewhat perturbed. The talkative girl had not given her much peace since she had moved into the room two weeks ago. But perhaps it had been for the best; it had taken her mind off the person she tried to avoid thinking about every moment of every day._

"_I'm just reviewing dynamics interpretation for Figaro."_

_Meg made a gagging sound and reached for her vitamin oil. The twelve-year-old began to massage her legs and continued to talk, unconsciously. "I think Jammes has overdone again. She was limping to her room. I just met her down the hall."_

_Anne did not answer but continued to study. It was only a few minutes before Meg decided she should go check on her fellow-dancer. Once the door was closed, Anne pulled out the page hidden beneath her book. It was her last letter to him:_

"_Dear Erik,_

_I beg you to forgive me for not returning. It is not because I do not care for you. I feel certain that we can not be happy when you hide yourself away from the world. There is so much anger in you that I do not understand._

_You have given me so much. I feel ready to try "my genius on an unsuspecting world" for which you promised you would prepare me. But there is one thing I lack, dearest. It is that I need you beside me._

_I don't want to leave you; but I want you to try, for my sake, to be happy. I want you to try to pull yourself from that dark place and come to me. I will wait for you._

_Your Christine"_

Her final day at the Academy she had entrusted the letter to Sophia Giry. She had moved to New York, with persuasion from Mrs. Russell, and had begun her singing career. It was two years later that she quit the stage and took a position at Archibald. The health of the singer dwindled as she lost hope of ever seeing Erik again; and, subsequently, she lost her ambition and delight in her talent. He had never contacted her.

And, now, he was here. He was no longer that man of despair and hate. He was living and doing and creating. She had known his genius from the moment she had met him. Now he had come into his own. Did he want to see her? She would not delude herself; he would never seek her out. That unmistakable love that had blossomed in the rooms and corridors underneath the old Opera house was only a spirit of the past.

"You should be very grateful that I am here in the city," began Mrs. Russell. "I went to dinner with your father and Elizabeth last night. They have moved into the Cloverley until they can find a permanent residence. Not that your apartment isn't nice, dear. It was just too small for their taste."

"Oh, I was certain they would be cramped, Leri. Don't trouble yourself to spare my feelings. I had hoped they could make it work for a little longer, but…"

"Well, having said that, Elizabeth is here and wishes to speak to you for a moment."

Elizabeth was soon given the phone, for she started in on Anne immediately. "Anne? I think it was very sly of you to tell us your flat was in Manhattan, when it is certainly no where near it! And, it is miniscule! You have no maid, no one to cook; whatever gave you the idea that we could stay there?"

Anne, for a moment, did not know how to respond to her sister's rebuke. The words seemed to be angry, but the voice was close to laughing. "I did not tell you it was in Manhattan. I just did not bother to correct you."

"Oh, never mind. You are no fun; you take things too personally. You haven't even asked how Penelope and I are enjoying the city!" Elizabeth rattled on for sometime, and Anne waited patiently for her older sister to come up for air.

"I'm so glad you are enjoying yourself," Anne spoke into the phone.

"Yes, well, here is Mrs. Russell."

"Whew! Did you catch all that? She and Penelope are going out now, so I can have you to myself for a moment. I believe Elizabeth is in a whirlwind. And…as you might have guessed, she's been shopping." Then, hurriedly Mrs. Russell added, "But, the good news is: she can't possibly fit more into the rooms, so she is waiting to make her bulkier purchases once she and Elliot have found a more livable residence."

The news did worry Anne. "Please, Leri, try to keep them from getting some monstrous suite!"

"I am trying my best. You must remember, though, your father is a man of renown. You must accept that he will need something somewhat upscale to suit his needs. He can't entertain in a studio!"

Valeria Russell's words did nothing to alleviate Anne's concerns for her father's living arrangements. She felt that the older woman wanted the best for her family; but her own decisions, based on social standing, were more indulgent as opposed to Anne's views. Anne had never felt the need to surround herself with the luxuries and societal concerns of the wealthy; she was more accustomed to being of service and giving of herself for the needs of others.

"How are you getting on at Mary's?" Anne welcomed the change of subject.

"Oh, the boys are keeping me very busy. In fact, I can hear Walter splashing his dinosaur in the toilet again."

"I won't detain you. Call again when you get the moment." Anne ended the call.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped her cell into her pocket. What if she had mentioned the dinner at the Musgrove's last night? How would Mrs. Russell have reacted to the news? Anne was sure she didn't want to know. It was certain that there was no love between her god-mother and anyone having anything to do with Frederik Wentworth.

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**a/n: Short chapter, I know. :sniff: Had to break it here, though.**

**followthestory: I am just thrilled you are still looking forward to the next chapter. Chapter 7 and following will shed more light on the relationship of Anne and Frederik for you, hopefully.**

**LaLumacca: Yeah, I agree. I love P&P, but would like to see more **_**Persuasion**_** fics. Thanks for your review!**


	7. A Likeness of Frederik

Chapter 7 – A Likeness of Frederik

Louisa and Henrietta, hearing that they were to entertain a famous musician and playwright, began to research the man, who was formerly no more to them than a name they might have recalled having heard once or twice. Anne found it trying, in the least, to be bombarded with information about Frederik Wentworth, for Mary had taken up the amusement as well.

"You know, he might know of Dad," expressed Mary one evening. "Dad does know everyone of any real importance."

The Musgrove girls hid their smirks behind the piano where they were going over one of the musical scores of _The Siren of the Laconia_. It had taken some pains for Louisa to get her hands on it, having done so almost criminally. The spirited Louisa, when determined on what she would do, would brook no opposition. If the celebrity coming to visit had had a painting or a sculpture displayed somewhere, she would have hunted it down and done all in her power to know everything she could about it, short of removing it from the premises to her own home. So it was with the theme song from Mr. Wentworth's _Laconia_. It had hardly reached the shores of the U.S., having gained its reputation in Europe, and she was already espousing its merits to all her acquaintances. The piece she had commandeered she studied and practiced meticulously. She agonized over its chords.

"How soul-searching the mood and nuances of the song," she mused to Henrietta one day in the presence of Anne. If Anne had not been fraught with her own anxieties at the time, she would have found the ravings of Louisa more entertaining. Yet she could not smile at this sudden infatuation with the man of her past. She struggled daily to come to terms with the churning emotions within, to find a sort of equilibrium.

The day before the expected dinner, the girls came to their brother's home for a visit and brought with them a recent picture of Frederik. Most of the shots of him, up to that point, had been from the side, or blurred. Mary was allowed time to examine it, then Anne. The pining woman could not help but gaze upon it for some time. It was a different countenance altogether staring back at her, though she recognized the liquid amber eyes. And something in the forehead was familiar. Now she understood the relationship between Dr. Musgrove and Frederik's brother. It was Edward Wentworth who had solicited the aid of the good surgeon to reconstruct the features that lay on her lap before her.

A sadness swept over her unlike any she had felt before. Louisa and Henrietta were discussing some interesting tidbit they had found with Mary and did not notice how quickly their friend left the room.

Their only account on the matter went as follows:

"Oh, has Anne left already?"

"She is very attentive to the boys, you know. They can hardly do without her when she is here. She is their favorite aunt, I daresay."

And whether Mary meant it as an insult or not, it was taken that way. Before long, the sisters had found some excuse to get out of Mary's way, taking their precious picture with them.

Anne escaped to the basement. The boys had vacated it, preferring the warm weather outside. As she moved to pick up the toys strewn across the floor, pictures flashed into her mind. The creaking planks of the stairway of the old Opera house…the vast height of the room as she entered the chapel from the narrow corridor. Then the haunting, luring music, she heard it again.

_Anne looked around her. The stained-glass windows brightly played their colors across the benches and wooden floorboards of the room. 'Was the music real? And where could it be coming from?'_

_She had been practicing in one of the rooms off the empty opera hall when she heard it. It was her favorite place to practice; the antiquity of the building brought a sense of being close to her mother again. No one came here now; it was kept up as more of a museum. Sometimes she would hear people wandering through the rooms as sight-seers, or couples looking for a hidden alcove to conceal themselves. But never had she heard that bewitching music. It was intoxicating, and she had to find its maker._

_She went through all the rooms, checking each one by one__ listening to find whether she were closer to the spell-binding melody. The haunting tune led her into the chapel, built long ago as a retreat for those artists who would wish to ask for divine assistance before their performances. It was small, and not so ornate that Anne had trouble seeing that there was no real place for the piano she heard in the distance. For she was able to ascertain that that was the instrument being played. She moved up the room toward the altar where a portrait of St. Cecilia was hung between heavy red brocade draperies that spanned the back wall of the jutting room. As she looked upon the innocent face of the woman in the portrait, the music stopped. All was quiet around her, as though the very atmosphere was hushed and waiting._

_Had she been given a divine message? Could her mother be calling to her? What did this mean? The walls around her remained still and silent. She stayed in the room until it was time for her to go to her next class. Something mysterious awaited her there, but what?_

_It was a week later that the music beckoned once more. Immediately she ran into the old chapel. She looked upon the portrait, but this time the music did not stop. Its melody was like a laughing trickling brook, and she stepped up into the alcove of the dead martyr's memorial. The playing was coming from behind the heavy curtain. She drew it back, and there she found a door only slightly ajar. She opened it and walked forward and down the winding stairway. The music was playful and intoxicating. The musician charmed the keys in such a way that it made the hairs on her arms stand; it was pure euphoria to listen to the sweetness of the chords. Yet she was not familiar with the song._

_She walked down a long corridor; there were closed doors which she passed on each side. She knew where she was going. She could see the open doorway ahead. From it's opening came a sliver of light, and she pushed it forward to enter._

"_Stay where you are!" a male voice demanded. The music had stopped. She had no doubt the voice was the musician's._

"_You play so beautifully," she called from the door, but did not intrude. "May I come in?"_

_There was silence for some moments. She waited for him to open the door. He did not, but the words floated through the doorway._

"_If you come in, you will have to sit at the first chair you see."_

_While Anne thought his words odd, she pushed the door open. Before her was a large room which housed only a single chair and dim lamp. The cord of the lamp was stretched through the doorway of another room. Her first impulse was to continue on into the second chamber, but she remembered the instructions and sat upon the chair._

"_Are you seated now?" the voice was strong and demanded her response._

"_I am," she said loudly._

_Then the music began again. This time it was more sentimental, a love song. She had heard its notes before; but never had they been played like this, she was sure. She closed her eyes, letting the music take her spirit from her body and transport her to a realm of wonder and joy. The music stopped for only a second. Then the piano began anew, and its chords were the sounds of unearthly sadness. Anne felt she could almost touch the emotion within them. Her heart yearned for more; and, hungrily, she listened until he stopped abruptly and spoke._

"_You need to go to class." She looked at her watch in doubt, but he was right._

"_Will you play again tomorrow?"_

"_If you will be here."_

"_I will!" Unconsciously, she stepped toward the doorway from which the musician's voice came. The door slammed in her face. Confusion swept over her as she left the small room and clambered up the stairs into the chapel. Very carefully she pulled the door to as it had been before she entered it and draped the curtain over it again. Whoever he was, he did not enjoy visitors. And in her heart she knew, she didn't want to share him – or his music, to be more precise._

_Many weeks passed wherein she went to the room below the chapel almost every day. The pianist's music had become almost an addiction to her. She found she could not sleep without replaying some portion in her mind; and when she woke, the melodies she could not remember the night before were on her tongue. Yet it was not enough. She had to know who this mysterious musician was._

_In her frustration, she sat upon the chair without announcing herself and spoke to him._

"_I want to see you today." There was silence, though she could feel his presence. "I want to see you play that lovely music."_

"_No," answered the unswayable man through the doorway. "But I will play a different instrument today."_

_A moment later the pleading strains of the violin came through the portal. Now this was something Anne had not thought could be so, but he was playing a song that was well known to her. It was one her father was famous for playing: _The Resurrection of Lazarus_. And he played it beautifully, as though each stroke of the bow was his own unique story being told. The listener in the chair felt speechless when the piece was completed, and the violinist waited in silence for some time. Anne got up out of the chair and found that her knees were shaking. The music had brought so many recollections to her that she felt very exposed, as though the musician had trespassed some unseen boundary of her mind._

"_I must go," she stated simply and walked out the door._

"_Anne Christine Elliot," the voice called to her as she walked toward the stairway. It stopped her in her path. "I will let you see me play next time." She did not turn and look back, though she knew he was right at the door to the hallway. Her legs raced up the steps and out into the light shining through the windows of the chapel. She did not turn back to straighten the curtain. There was fear within her. He knew her name! But her heart rested in the knowledge that she would return; she could not help but do so._

_She did return. And he kept his word._


	8. The Balm of Poetry

**a/n: I do not own Browning's **_**Sonnet IX**_** from **_**Sonnets from the Portuguese**_**. But, I beg you to consider (re)reading it.**

Chapter 8

_She knocked upon the door, announcing her arrival, then sat down in the chair and waited. The lamp had been removed, and the darkness made her more wary of proceeding. Still, she stayed. Would he truly let her see him today?_

"_Come in," he directed. She pushed open the door slowly._

"_You will sit in the chair against the wall." He did not turn his head but remained at the piano. She did as she was told and faced his back as he played. She was in an overly large room which was very bare. There was no rug on the stony floor and no planks covered the studs of the walls inside the room. She could see that there were no windows, but the only light came from two lamps in the room tethered to cords that plugged into an outlet strip lying on the floor. To her right was the doorway she had entered, and to her left she espied another door that was closed. Then he began to play, and she knew this was the playing that had enraptured her for two months now. She studied the man playing as his bone-thin figure hunched over the keys as though he wished to be one with the instrument itself. His chosen piece was sweet and slow, the harmonies intertwining themselves peacefully. She noted his clothes as they hung limply on his form. He wore a black, long-sleeved, button-down shirt and black slacks. The hair on the back of his neck was dark. With his head bent over the piano, she could not see more of it. _

_The music ended, and he did not turn to give her time to praise his performance. He immediately started into a passionate, quickly-paced encore. His hands were flying over the keys, but he was tripping over some of them. She could tell that there was frustration in his playing now, yet he continued on, striking at the keys as though he was punishing them for not doing his bidding. Then his hands came down in a clang upon the instrument._

_He turned to look at her in a heated manner. It shocked her senses, for she was looking upon a black leather mask that covered the whole of his face but for his eyes. In the darkness, the mask seemed to recede into the background of the walls around him._

"_Get out!" he spat at her, angrily. She did not hesitate but raced out the door. The mood in the room had been enough to suffocate her. His displeasure, whether it was with her or with his playing, was a threatening presence that followed her down the hall. As she passed up the stairs, she heard the same song begin again. This time the playing had power and precision. He mastered the challenges of the chords that had been difficult for him before. Anne did not leave the chapel but sat down and listened. As the music continued, the emotions of the player began to soften. His music was his own again, and she knew that he had donned the mask in honor of her presence. Now it was removed, as was she,__and he could bare his soul again._

Anne began to perceive where her sadness in seeing the likeness of Frederik originated. Was this new Frederik Wentworth just the man wearing a mask? Perhaps this was why he had never contacted her. He would rather his past be forgotten; that the features of a face badly twisted might never be exposed again, whether by physical appearance or the unhappy reminder. This left her feeling her predicament. He would surely not wish to be confronted with one so closely connected with that time of his despair.

Mary interrupted her thoughts by coming into the basement. "The boys need their naps, and Jenny had to leave early." Anne followed her sister upstairs to help her with the boys.

"Today is so very dreary, Anne," sighed Mary, as her older sister closed the door to Charlie's room.

"Why don't you go out for a while? Do some shopping."

"Oh, I couldn't, and leave you here? That would be too mean…really?" That was all the encouragement she needed.

As she headed to her room to change, Mary spoke loudly. "I don't understand why Jenny had to go; something about a school assignment. But, really! I don't think she should have taken on a summer class if she couldn't watch the kids like she agreed to." Anne followed her and stood in the doorway of her bedroom. Her sister's voice was carrying to the boys' rooms, and she wished to keep Mary from yelling her conversations down the hall.

Once her younger sister left the house, Anne took to her room with her laptop to respond to a few messages from her associates at the school. Then she perused a website whose society members were fans of the poets of old. It was a secret delight she had nourished since her move to New York. Here she could express her wonder at the epics of Scott and analyze the deep love of the Brownings.

Then she glanced at Elizabeth Barrett Browning's _Sonnet IX_ and allowed the familiar feelings to sweep over her once more. The last line found a tear within the corner of her eye, blurring her vision. She quickly wiped it before it had hardly begun its journey down her pale, sunken cheek. Then, checking her emotions, she exited the site and closed her laptop. There was no point in dwelling on it. Her mood bespoke the heightened sense of dread and excitement intermingled and all pertaining to the approaching meeting with Erik – she stopped herself. Frederik. It was Frederik. She would never make the mistake of calling him "Erik" in his presence when they met again.

"I'm so glad you called!" Mrs. Russell spoke cheerily. "I have interesting news for you. Have you heard of Raoul de Chagny?"

"I don't think-"

Mrs. Russell did not wait for more. "Well, he is your father's step-nephew…or something like that. Your father's brother, William, married a French woman, a comtesse or some such. Anyway, she had a son by a previous marriage. His name is Raoul, and he's been in France all this time – didn't your father ever tell you how he met your mother? It was through a mutual acquaintance of your uncle's. Well, he is in town. Raoul is, I mean. I don't know about your uncle." She stopped a moment to catch her breath.

"Are you still there?" she asked when Anne didn't answer.

"Yes, go on."

"All right, so Raoul de Chagny, has extensive property and is quite wealthy, from what I gather. – I admit most of this is rumor, but I know he's here because I've seen him. – He is going to buy The Fontaine! You know, the old theater building-"

"Yes, I know it. But why are you so excited about this?"

"Don't you see?"

"No, I don't."

"He is looking to bring in some business. He will want some of the best musicians and singers…" she spoke matter-of-factly, but Anne caught on.

"Leri, I can't believe what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?"

"I am not going to sing for him. I haven't sung for an audience in years."

"Well, wouldn't it be easier, knowing you have a cousin who owns the place?"

"No, not really." Anne felt like hanging up. Her god-mother had never spoken with her about singing until a few weeks ago. She did not understand why the woman was being so insensitive.

"Perhaps I've been too pushy," Valeria seemed to realize her mistake by the silence over the phone. "You just need to meet him. He is charming." And then the real motive flew from her lips: "And if you don't get here soon, I'm afraid Elizabeth will snatch him up."

Anne laughed into the phone. "If Elizabeth wants him, I doubt I'll have a chance."

"You just come and see." Anne didn't answer. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You have more taste and sense than ten Elizabeths."

"I'll see what I can do." They both knew Anne wasn't convinced.

"Goodbye, sweetheart." Valeria Russell's voice dripped with honey. "I love you!" The older woman waited for a response.

"You know I love you, Leri!"

Once off the phone, Anne contemplated Valeria's news. Perhaps it would be best for her to leave for New York soon. She had been here long enough; and in light of the situation into which she might be putting Frederik, it seemed an easy solution. Would she be able to leave before the dinner tomorrow night? It would be difficult, and it might cause the people she loved undue alarm. She would have to attend the dinner and take Frederik's lead as to whether he wished to acknowledge their past acquaintance. She did not want to cause him discomfort, but surely he would know that his secret was safe with her!

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**Zallah: I'm not following **_**POTO**_** faithfully at all. But, there are a few things from the book that just seemed to fit themselves so nicely into the story. Thanks for your flattering review. :blush:**

**followthestory: You asked so many good questions, I just want to answer right now. I won't, though, because that would be boring. Rest assured that the story will satisfy your curiosity! And, thanks again for your lovely review.**


	9. Charlie's Fall

Chapter 9 – Charlie's Fall

Mary returned before dinner that evening talking excitedly of her purchases. "I'm not sure which pair I am going to wear tomorrow night," she mused, displaying two sets of shoes to her older sister, "Mrs. Musgrove doesn't care much for fashion, but I'm not going to disgrace the Elliot name."

Anne was with her sister on the patio, when a terrifying shriek resounded from the backyard. The sisters looked at each other, horror-struck. "That's Charlie!" screamed Mary. Anne followed her to where the four-year-old was lying beside the trunk of a tree. Mary tried to pick him up, and he screamed again; this time one of pain.

"Oh, my baby. My baby!" Mary, kneeling beside him, was breathing rapidly. Charlie lay gazing wide-eyed at the two women before him. He tried to pull himself up, and lay back again, crying now. The look of fear at not understanding the pain he was feeling was enough to break Anne's heart. Mary was clutching her chest. "I think I'm having a panic attack."

"Stay calm, Mary. I'll call Charles." As she waited for his line to pick up, she, too, knelt down beside the boy. "Charlie? Can you see me?"

"Yeah," the boy responded, seriously.

"Can you count my fingers?"

"One, two, three," he answered correctly.

"Charles, this is Anne. Charlie's had a nasty fall…yes, I'm checking." Anne held her hand up to Charlie's face again. "Charlie, watch my finger," she instructed as she moved her digit to the right, then the left.

"I don't think he has a concussion." Charlie tried to pull himself from the ground, once more, only to lie back and begin his moaning again. "I think it might be his arm or neck…"

Anne hung up the phone and looked at Mary, who had been concentrating on her sister's words, only returning to the rapid breathing when Anne ended the call.

"He will meet us at the hospital."

"What do I do?" Mary looked lost and hysterical.

"Find his pediatrician's number."

Mary pounced on the idea, "Yes! I know it; hand me your cell!" As Mary kept busy by calling the doctor, Anne sat beside the boy and tried to keep his mind off the pain by singing a song. Anne lifted one of Charlie's arms gently. Charlie looked discomfited, but undeterred. "Do the song again, Nan," the boy prompted. Anne began to lift the other arm, and Charlie squirmed in pain.

"I don't think anything is broken," She stated, as Mary got off the cell phone.

"How will we get him into the car?"

"Charlie, I'm going to help you sit up," Anne announced. Charlie began to cry, as the pain reoccurred, but Anne picked him up to carry him. "Call Charles' sisters. See if one of them can stay with Walter."

"My poor baby," Mary whimpered, following. Her ear was to the phone again.

The x-rays showed no broken bones, and it was ascertained that the boy's shoulder was sprained. Anne and Mary brought him home, and Charlie was kept in bed for the reminder of the evening, as they watched carefully for any signs of head trauma. Anne and Mary took turns administering ice, pain relief, and attending to the general comfort of the boy throughout the night.

Mary was on the phone with her husband as the two sisters partook of a late breakfast the next morning.

"It doesn't matter, Charles. Now that Charlie must stay in bed all day, I can't see how you can think of leaving him for a dinner."

Anne could hear Charles' laugh over the phone; Mary was silent. Her face turned into a scowl as she listened. "Jenny isn't staying with the boys; she said she's sick. I have to go now so I can take care of my son, since his father isn't concerned with him." She hung up the phone, and continued to eat her meal in silence.

Later on Anne entered the wounded boy's room. Mary was bent over him, scolding him for getting out of bed to get a toy. The older sister approached, and the younger stated, "Why does it always fall on the women to take care of a sick child? I am not cut out to play nurse. You saw my attack yesterday. Being a mother is unnerving." Then Mary scowled, "I don't think Charles cares a bit for my feelings; he decides he will do something, and we are left to fend for ourselves."

"Charles is just as excited as you to go to this dinner. You know it."

"But, still, Anne, why should he be the one who gets to go?" Mary looked darkly at the child who was pushing his little toy train over the bed-sheet.

"Why don't you go with him? I can stay with Charlie, dearest."

"Oh! What a great idea! Why didn't I think of that?" Mary was up from the chair, and holding her sister's hand. "Anne, you wouldn't mind then? Of course, you are the perfect person to stay with him! You are not a mother, so you don't feel the agitations I endure when I look in on him." Mary began to walk to the door. "Yes, it really makes sense that I should be with Charles at the dinner. After all, you will get on fine with the boys. You _are_ their favorite aunt." She turned at the doorway, once more. "But, you must tell me which shoes I should wear."

A short while later Anne went to retrieve the boy's pain reliever while Mary was in her bedroom trying on her outfit. She found the bottle empty. "Mary," she called quietly, knocking on the door.

The younger sister opened the door to her. "What do you think?" she asked brightly, showing off her ensemble.

"It's very nice," complimented Anne.

"Too dressy?"

"No, it's perfect." Mary looked pleased, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

"Mary, we are out of Charlie's medicine."

"Oh, I know. Call Charles' mother; she has an extra bottle."

"I don't want to trouble her. Perhaps, I should just walk over there and get it."

Mary shrugged. "You could just call, and get one of the staff to bring it over. Ah! But, while you're over there, would you ask Henrietta if I might borrow her glitzy belt? She'll know what I'm talking about."

Anne walked over to the Grand Manor, and knocked at the back door. The maid answered, and found the pain reliever for her. After thanking her, Anne walked through the main hall toward the more inhabited regions of the house. She searched the music room and the living room, never thinking to ask whether the women of the house were out. All was silent. Louisa, Henrietta, and their mother must have gone shopping. She was returning through a small access hallway that led straight to the back door, when she saw the door of Dr. Musgrove's office, a rarely used consultation room, open before her.

"Let me get something to wipe off the area then, Frederik."

She froze. Through the open door in front her she heard the voice from her past answer, "I have it right here; brought it with me for just such a purpose." If Dr. Musgrove walked through the doorway, he would espy her immediately. He would see her if she passed by the doorway now, or hear her if she retreated out of the hall. She stood where she was, contemplating what she should do.

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**a/n: I have my first beta, which means I'll be going back through and changing some things. Plus, these first chapters are going to be going through a bit of reconstruction. Not to worry, I've already written about 16 chapters, give or take, so I don't think the plot is going to change drastically.**

**Tater: Hello, delightful beta o' mine! Before I respond to your review, I just want to say, "Thank you!!!" for agreeing to spill the red ink on my story. It really needs it. On to your review: she is rather a pathetic little heroine, isn't she? J.A.'s Anne wasn't quite so teary-eyed and mopey. But then, I love a little angst.**

**Nie: Wow. You know how to make a little scribbler feel special. Thank you. I, too, hope that others will rediscover the amazing love and virtues of Austen's "Anne" and "Frederick."**


	10. The Unexpected Meeting

Chapter 10

"Let's have a look then," Anne heard Dr. Musgrove's voice say. "Ah, it's incredible. The cheek bones have not turned back in. Your sinuses, do they give you trouble?"

"Only when I have a cold. Like anyone else." Dr. Musgrove's hearty laughter woke Anne to the realization that she was listening in on a private conversation. Yet, she could not move. Frederik Wentworth – her Erik! – was really here, just a few steps away from where she stood. She wanted to slide down the wall in the shock of it, but dared not take a breath for fear they would hear her.

"The forehead has not shifted forward. Do you suffer from headaches often?"

"Not really."

"The profile is exceptional. The upper lip has the slightest scarring. The right nostril is fallen somewhat, but overall…"

"The patient is doing excellently," concluded Frederik Wentworth.

"Well, I do hope so. I know this is not in my realm of expertise; but the bouts of depression, have they lessened?"

"I still deal with my low times, but it's nothing, _nothing_ to what I was before the surgery, Richard. I can't tell you how what you did for me-"

"The scars on your arms, I notice, you still wear the long sleeves?"

"I still have them. There's no use looking at them; I'm not going to do anything about it."

"Why not, Frederik? It wouldn't be nearly as extensive as the other surgeries-"

"No. I choose to keep those scars. I know you'll think it strange, but they hold a sentimental value for me. I got those when my parents died. It's completely different from my face; that was a curse from birth."

Anne's eyes softened as she listened to the man. Though he was changed, there was still a part of him that had remained throughout the years. He was still just as devoted to the memory of his mother and father.

"Well, I can't thank you enough for meeting with me beforehand."

"No problem."

"I didn't want to do anything to bring the surgery to anyone's attention, but I was curious."

"I understand, and I was happy to do so."

"Now you'd better be on your way. I sent the women off in search of-" Dr. Musgrove stopped as he followed Frederik out the door. Frederik was already standing quite still, staring at the dark-haired woman in the hallway.

Anne could do nothing but look on the face of Frederik Wentworth, and he only returned the shocked expression. It was hard for anyone to tell whether the patient was angry, dismayed, or just surprised at Anne's presence.

"Anne, I didn't-" began Dr. Musgrove.

"I'm so sorry," exclaimed Anne quickly. "I – I didn't know they were all gone from the house."

"Of course, you couldn't. But why are you-?" The doctor stopped, "Frederik, may I introduce you to-"

"We've met," he interrupted. Dr. Musgrove looked puzzled.

"I apologize that our discussion was not private. I thought-"

"It's of no matter to me, Musgrove." Frederik waved him off. "How are you, Anne?" the question held the utmost politeness.

"I am – I – I have to get back to Charlie," she stuttered. All she could think was to get out of that house as quickly as she could. It was too much for her to keep her countenance now.

"How is he, Anne?" asked the doctor, letting the small figure of the woman pass, and turning to look at her. She was quite sure her actions were very mysterious, perhaps even alarming to the two men; but she did not care. If she did not get away from there, she wasn't sure what might occur. Without answering, she quickly escaped out the back door. Walking as quickly as her legs could go, she removed herself from the doctor's premises. Her breath was ragged when she reached the door of Mary's home. Her hands were shaking as she turned the knob, fleeing immediately up the stairs and to the bedroom in which she was sleeping.

"Anne! Is that you? Do you have my belt?" Mary was following her up the stairs to where she stood with her back pressed against the door. Quickly the ruffled woman locked it and slid down to the floor of the room.

"I'll be out in a moment, Mary!" For some blessed reason, her younger sister was satisfied with this response. Heaving each welcome breath and trying not to let the emotions passing through her end in tears, she waited until she had control of herself.

Frederik's surprised expression passed across her mind once more. Was he infuriated? Was he embarrassed? For, in a way, she had done exactly what she had not wanted to be guilty of: bringing the past to his mind vividly. She was sure, if he had not felt so before, he hated her now. Oh, why? Why had she taken that hallway? Why had she eavesdropped on him and the doctor? He had listened in on her many times when she had not known it, but it was not the same!

"_I have listened to you sing, Anne Christine Elliot. You have potential, but you do not have control."_

_Erik's voice floated to her from the next room. A week and a half after he had let her see him play, she had returned, with some trepidation, to her favorite room to practice in the back of the old opera house. The low tones of the musician's voice were mesmerizing, yet she felt the fear return._

"_How do you know so much about me?"_

_A soft chuckle enveloped the room. "How could the child of a famous violinist not know her life is public knowledge?"_

_A chagrined expression crossed Anne's face. She could see it staring back at her in the reflection of the mirror that covered one wall of the room. It was eerie, being able to see herself and knowing that the man behind the voice might be watching her. She had been practicing her expressions today, but now she turned herself from the mirror to pick up her things and leave. She felt angry that he had followed her, angry that he had listened to her practice. These were her private moments, when she could feel the presence of her mother and sing to her with all the love she could not express in any other way._

"_There is no point in being angry, Christine."_

_Her hand tightened on her book-bag strap as he called her by her mother's name. She looked up at the ceiling and around the room. "I never invaded your privacy; how dare you invade mine!"_

_He did not respond to her statement but told her his purpose. "I am here to offer you my instruction."_

_Anne turned to the mirror, her arms crossed. The look on her face was one of pure derision. "And _who_ are _you_?" She stopped. "Never mind, I don't want to know."_

"_You may call me Erik. And I will teach you the music of your soul."_

_Anne reached for the door. Her voice held buckets of sarcasm, "I think I'll pass."_

"_No, actually, you won't pass. If you don't improve soon, you'll be out of the school." Anne's hand was about to pull the door closed, when she stopped. "Is that what you want?" the voice asked._

_Swallowing her pride, she stepped back in. So, he knew her lousy performance records, too. "No." She sat down on the table in the room. "Go ahead; I'm listening."_

"_You're good at that. But it's time to stop listening and start singing."_

"_But-"_

"_No, Christine. There is nothing around you worth listening to while you are singing. Sing the song again._ _ And, this time, I want you to tune out the reverb in the room."_

_For a while, Anne repeated the first stanza of the song with Erik stopping her and repeating his instructions. She tried to ignore the reflection of her voice against the bare walls. Anne was fully frustrated with herself and her instructor when he abruptly stated, "Time for class."_

_She picked up her things again and headed for the door. "I'll meet you beneath the chapel for your next lesson." Anne didn't answer. She felt too frustrated with her lack of improvement. Would she come? Who knew? At the least the man could suffer in the suspense of her non-reply._

_And, of course, she found herself skipping down the steps the next day, into the darkness of the underground corridor._

_The sounds of the piano were her guide. He was playing that beautiful, laughing tune again. She knocked at the door, and the music stopped._

"_Come in, Christine." She hesitated and stood in the anterior room but walked through the second doorway when she noticed the lamp was missing. An old screen had been moved into it, along with other furniture. It didn't seem so vast now but like an old storage room. He was behind the things, seated at the piano. She could make out the top of his head between the odds and ends. "For the sake of the sound quality, close the door." He did not wait for her hesitation in obeying his command. "Let's begin with Desdemona's_ Mia Madre_. He began the intro, and she closed the door to the room, joining in very softly at first. She was not surprised that he knew she was very familiar with the song; what did surprise her was how her voice did not carry in the full room. He played the accompaniment for a cadence and stopped._

"_We will begin again," he announced. She could feel, as well as hear, the displeasure in his voice. She sang in the way she had been trained to compensate for the room's absorbance of sound._

"_I want you to try it this way," he said, and gave her a new method._

"_My instructor told me I should-" began Anne,_

"_I am your instructor now, and that worthless teacher of yours knows nothing of the capabilities of your voice, as yet."_

"_Again," he stated mechanically, beginning the song after she had imitated him. She found it even harder to control the fluctuations of her voice and lost volume once more. Each time, he would stop the music and begin again. After the seventh time, he allowed her to finish the section. Anne was completely tired out and frustrated. _

"_I am going to show you two exercises now. These will help strengthen your voice so that you will not strain when you are learning to sing the way I have taught you."_

_Once she could perform the exercises sufficiently, he stated, "You are late for class."_

_She looked down at her watch in a panic. It was already eight minutes after. She didn't stop to thank him but hurried out. "Christine!" he stopped her at the steps. "Close the chapel door when you go." She complied, pulling the drapery over it, and racing out of the opera hall in a sprint._


	11. Anne's Realization

Chapter 11 – Anne's Realization

_The next day her spirit was not in the practice. He stopped his accompaniment and asked, "Why are you so low?"_

_It took a moment for Anne to answer. "There's no point in going on with your lessons."_

"_You're giving up so soon?"_

"_M. Poligny, my vocal instructor, he called me into his office yesterday. They have decided I am not improving enough to continue on here."_

"_And you think that you should just give up." Anne didn't respond; it was exactly what she was thinking._

"_Continue," he directed and began where they left off._

"_But-"_

_He banged his hands down on the piano keys. She waited, contemplating whether to leave. Yet the dangerous atmosphere clouding the room abated. "You will never be able to sing for your mother if you allow others to tell you that you can't do it," he pointed out calmly. Anne pursed her lips. "Are you going to let that idiot, Poligny, tear your dream from your grasp?"_

_Silence was a blanket covering the room for some time. Then Anne stated determinedly, but quietly, "No."_

"_Speak up, please. This room is terrible at carrying sound."_

_Anne smiled. He was teasing her. "No! I said!" she sang in the new manner she had been practicing for a day and a night._

_A low but triumphant chuckle filled the room. How he could command his voice to fill it was just another example of his mysterious power. "Continue," he directed._

He had taught her to sing with greater consistency and clarity, holding the more challenging notes with ease and without losing volume. She had improved quickly; and when the time of her performance evaluation had come, she'd turned enough heads to merit approval to resume her studies for another year.

His eavesdropping had ended in helping her. She had taken with her the feeling that she could conquer any musical challenge, and he had encouraged her in that. He had been a rock that had stayed immovable in the troubled seas of doubt that resided within her. In some ways she felt as if she had not lived since the time she left the Academy. No! Her life had been empty before she'd met Frederik, as well. Why had she not seen this before? Ever since her mother's death she had felt as though the color was gone from her world. Frederik had brought that vividness - that inner happiness – back again.

The truth finally dawned upon her: while her sisters held to their own forms of selfishness, she was nursing her own. She had not taken responsibility for her unhappiness. First, she had blamed her mother. Now…had she been blaming Erik all these years? It was as though she was saying, "Look what you've done to me," with each breath she took in at the dawn of every new day. Her existence was one of self-pity; not of forbearance, as she had supposed.

Mary was at the door again. "Anne, I really need that belt!"

She opened the door to her younger sister. "Henrietta wasn't at home, Mary, so I wasn't able to get the belt. Did you mean to wear it with your outfit tonight?"

"Yes," Mary's face clouded in disappointment. Then she asked, "Do you think it will look all right without it?"

"Oh, Mary. I think you look beautiful."

Anne, watching Mary kiss Charlie goodbye, felt no inkling of envy about missing the dinner. In fact, she was elated to keep the boys. She did not feel ready to be tested around Frederik, especially after her realization about herself.

"You will be sure to see he gets a fruit-pop after his supper, right?"

"Yes."

"I promised him a fruit-pop for being a good boy and staying in his bed."

Anne nodded. "But you must eat all your food for Nan, understand?" The four-year-old adventurer smiled mischievously in answer to his mother's instruction. Mary stepped over the picture cards that Anne and Walter had spread upon the floor. "We'll be back soon. And don't hesitate to call if something should happen, though I'm sure nothing will." Mary's excited expression made Anne smile as she left the room.

She finished the game with Walter and went downstairs to see the cook about bringing up the meal. She was interrupted by the ring of her cell phone.

"Bad time, Leri," she stated, as she eyed the display. It was not Valeria Russell but her sister, Elizabeth. Concerned that something important was afoot, she answered. For Elizabeth rarely phoned her. "Evening, Elizabeth."

"Anne, we need to have a discussion," her older sister announced, importantly.

The first person that came to Anne's mind was her father's nephew, Raoul. Was this about him again?

"Has Mrs. Russell mentioned her doubts to you about my friend, Penelope?" The question was like an accusation.

"Doubts?" Anne asked innocently.

"Yes. Valeria has just taken me to task about my choice of friends and how I would do better not to befriend a 'gold-digger'! Can you believe that?"

"Why would she say such a thing?"

"Oh, she's got it in her head that Dad might be getting a little too friendly with Penelope. Imagine, Dad! Do you know what he calls her? He calls her 'Pigelope' when she's not around. He thinks she's too flabby. Anyway, I think you should talk with her. She listens to you."

"Mrs. Russell, you mean."

"Of course, who else are we talking about?" Elizabeth huffed. "I realize that she is mother's old friend, but she's crossed the line this time. And I don't mind telling you that if she continues to preach at me, I'll see that she isn't invited to any of our galas."

"Galas?"

"Oh, you don't know, then," her older sister stated. "Dad just reserved a suite in Camden Place. We are moving in next week."

Anne almost dropped the cell phone in her shock. Camden Place was one of the most luxurious hotel residences in Manhattan. She spoke the words that came to her mind first. "I will be sure to speak to Mrs. Russell about this."

"See that you do," warned Elizabeth, still on the subject of Penelope.

Anne, realizing how Elizabeth had taken her words, warned, "Yes, but Elizabeth, I must ask you: does it not concern you that your friend has no resources of her own? I mean, who would see to her expenses if she didn't have you?"

"That is ridiculous! I brought her to New York; it would be irrational for me to expect her to pay her own way. Besides, she can return home anytime she pleases. But I hope she won't go soon; I have to pull together a housewarming for Dad. The planner just quit on me, and I haven't the time to find another. Thank goodness Dosier is here." Elizabeth discussed her plans for the party in some detail before saying, "I do hope you will not need your flat before the fall. I doubt we will have time to move everything out before then, with the party and all."

Anne felt sick in her stomach listening to Elizabeth's schemes to undermine all her careful preparation for their finances. Her older sister's blasé attitude toward her situation caused the great consternation that Anne's voice held when next she stated, "Elizabeth, you do recall that these parties you are to give will have to be paid for. And, you know, there is no money."

"You sound just like Mrs. Russell now," Elizabeth immediately snapped. "I thought that you could at least be happy for us that we are finding a little home here after you forced us out of our previous one! But I see you are only concerned with making Dad and me miserable." There was silence on the phone; the one sister letting her words sink in, the other wondering what she should say to assuage her sister's hurt feelings.

"Forget what I said about talking to Valeria," Elizabeth stated stormily. "I'll take care of it myself."

Anne looked down to find the call had ended. She carried a tray of food up to Charlie's room and created a make-shift picnic with a sheet spread across the boy's bedroom floor.


	12. I Should Not Have Known Her

Chapter 12

Awakened by the noise of her younger sister in the foyer, Anne quietly slipped out of the sleeping Charlie's room.

"How did it go?" she whispered to the husband and wife. They had not noticed her come into the room, so heated was their discussion.

"Oh, it was lovely!" Mary's eyes were alight. "Frederik Wentworth is quite the gentleman."

"And, both my sisters made general idiots of themselves over him," added Charles.

"Please!" Mary was taking down her hair in the mirror in the living room. "But, I will say that Louisa and Henrietta were very interested in Mr. Wentworth."

Charles smiled at Anne, knowingly, and headed to the kitchen.

Mary came over to her and whispered, "Charles thinks that they should have behaved better, and not tried to commandeer all his attentions."

Charles raised his voice to be heard, "They did their best to manipulate every conversation into flirtatious nonsense. It was embarrassing." He came into the room and said to his wife, "The man could hardly speak without having the three of you spouting flattering phrases after every monosyllable he uttered."

Mary rolled her eyes. "I don't see why you would think I'd be interested in Frederik Wentworth!"

"Oh, I don't think that is your object at all."

"Then what, pray tell, do you think is my object?" She did not hide her annoyance from him.

"Simply this: you want him to develop an interest in one of them."

Mary looked squelched for a moment. "So, what is wrong with that?"

"Well, first, isn't he a little old?"

"I don't think so, and neither does Louisa."

"Oh, so you've discussed this with her." Charles was smirking.

"What is so funny about that?"

"Nothing. I just think you need to let him decided whether he wants to get involved with Louisa."

"Or Henrietta," prompted Mary.

"Henrietta is much too young to be considering-"

"I think you should let Henrietta decide that." Mary pursed her lips, and looked rather pleased that she was able to turn her husband's words on him. "Why don't we all just let them do the deciding? It's none of our business anyway."

Charles could not help but guffaw. Yet, he quickly suppressed his smiles, and agreed. "Yes, you're right. It is none of our business. The best thing to do is to leave the poor man be."

Anne tried to hide her amusement. She could not help but wonder what it must have been like for Frederik. She could not imagine how the man she had known beneath the opera house would react to being surrounded by admirers.

Mary huffed. "He seemed very agreeable. I could not tell that he disliked our company."

"No, no. You are right." He looked at his wife, who now assumed a triumphant expression. He disliked arguing with her, and it was best to make peace sooner than later. "I think any man who had three women complimenting him all evening would find it easy to be agreeable."

"Well, he wasn't very complimentary about you, Anne." The older sister tried to keep her countenance now, as the younger, continued. "Why didn't you tell me you had gotten a glimpse of him earlier?"

"It was nothing of consequence really, and I was on my way back with Charlie's medicine…"

"He stated he 'would not have known you had he passed you on the street,' and that you were 'very changed.'"

Mary and Charles continued to discuss the dinner for sometime, and did not noticed Anne's inattentiveness to the conversation until Mary stood up.

"I really need get some rest. I have every intention of going with Louisa and Henrietta to the museum tomorrow."

"The museum?" Anne repeated.

"Yes, Frederik is taking them to see an exhibit there. It involves some period piece from the 17th century. He is getting inspiration for his next play, and it is very secretive. He wouldn't tell, and we are all determined to figure out what is this great masterpiece he is working on." And, with that Mary left the room.

Anne dismissed herself as well, while Charles went into his study. So, there was going to be continued interaction with Mr. Wentworth. She should not be amazed, especially if Louisa was so enamored with him.

In the bathroom, Anne took a moment to look at her features as she cleansed her face. She was surely thinner than when he had last seen her. Of course, she had been just a girl then. The years had not been good to her she had to admit with a sigh. The audible sigh was stopped before it could fully escape her lips. "No," she whispered to her likeness in the looking glass. Who cares what Frederik thought? She would be happy, because it depended not on her appearance or what others expected her to be.

As she left the bathroom, she crept past Walter's door. It was slightly opened so that she could hear the boy, should he wake. She could not help herself. She tip-toed into the room of the two-year-old, and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. Here was a happiness in which she could delight; she was happy to be needed, if only for a short while.

The sudden noise Mary made as she entered the room brought Anne bolt upright in her bed. She could hear Charlie crying from his room. "Anne, why didn't you answer?"

"What is it?"

"I can't seem to get Jenny on the phone this morning, and Charlie is already up and wanting breakfast. I will need to be over at the Grand Manor very shortly, if I am to go with the girls and Frederik…" Her voice trailed away, and she looked at Anne, her eyes pleading for her sister to volunteer to help her.

"Of course, Mary, just let me get dressed."

Anne pulled on her clothes, tied back her hair, and left the bedroom. She was on her way to the kitchen to retrieve the boy's breakfast, when there was a knock at the door. Stepping into the foyer, she opened it to see the smiling face of an excited Louisa. Behind her was her sister who was walking beside none other than Frederik Wentworth. He looked up at her, while Henrietta prattled away at him.

"Oh, Anne, we came to check on Charlie before we leave for the museum. Is he well today?" Louisa nearly had to push the door open; so stock still did the small woman become.

"Yes, yes. I think he is well. I was just getting his breakfast."

"Hello, Anne," stated Frederik, as he entered the house. He looked at her in a hesitant manner, as though waiting for her reaction. Or perhaps he was just uncomfortable in the room. It was obvious to Anne that it had not been his idea to visit the boy. Louisa started up the stairs.

"I haven't seen him since his fall. You don't mind if we check on him, do you?" Louisa called back as Henrietta followed her. Frederik did not make a move, but waited beside the door with his hand still on the doorknob. Anne was considering leaving the man in the foyer, poignantly aware of his discomfort and concerned that she was the cause of it. Yet, she knew the act would be rude, and, instead tried to make conversation.

"You are going to a special exhibit today, I understand?" Anne looked toward Frederik, but did not look at him directly. It felt like an eternity before he answered.

"Yes. I have wanted to see this particular piece for sometime. And, I've been meaning to visit Edward. It was quite a coincidence, actually…more than _one_…"

Anne felt the flush rise to her cheeks, but tried to conceal her embarrassment by going over and straightening one of the front draperies. "Is it a painting? Do I know it?"

He didn't answer due to the entrance of Anne's sister and the Musgrove girls. "I think he will be able to play downstairs today as long as he is careful," Mary told Henrietta.

"Frederik, is there room in your car for one more?" Louisa asked. Anne felt his glance immediately on her person.

"Yes, of course."

"Oh, I am so excited!" exclaimed Mary. "Anne, don't forget to ask Joanna to sprinkle a little cinnamon on the apples. Charlie loves that." The older sister nodded.

"Now, we don't intend to be back until late, Mary. Are you sure you will be up to walking around and looking at displays all day?"

"Why does everyone seem to think I don't have any endurance for a day at the museum? Or, anywhere, for that matter! I tell you, I am more than up to the task of…figuring out the mystery of Mr. Wentworth's elusive painting." She giggled, and grabbed her purse. "Bye, dearest," she gave Anne a peck on the cheek, and went out the door.

Louisa stayed long enough to sigh and roll her eyes at Anne before she followed Henrietta and Frederick out to the car.

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**A/N: Chapter 1 has been reworked and updated. I am hoping it grants a more thorough understanding of the environment and characters. If it doesn't, you know where the review button is. Let me know.**

**followthestory: I have every intention of satisfying your curiosity about Frederik's features, both past and present. But, not just yet. Thank you for continuing to review; I can't tell you how much it means to me.**

**Tater: You and that red ink bottle are becoming quite a pair! I think your opinion on the questionable grammatical usages is first-rate, and continue to trust your judgment. I'm so thrilled you are enjoying the story! I will soon be introducing some of my favorite portions of the plot.**


	13. Mary Makes Her Choice

Chapter 13

"Hello, Anne. Have you heard from Elizabeth recently?" was Valeria Russell's opening remark.

"Yes, she called me yesterday evening. She is very upset with you."

"I don't doubt it. If you were here, Anne, you would have done more than I have, I believe." Though Anne's mind was on the suite at Camden Place, she paused in her thinking to take in Mrs. Russell's words.

"What has happened?"

"Well, I am not sure that anything has as of yet, but I've told you many times that I don't trust that-"

"What has she done?"

"Well, let me tell you that your father and Penelope seem to be on very friendly terms. She has taken a great interest in his accomplishments, and spends more time listening to his stories about his golden years than is necessary. She is very complimentary of him. 'Elliot, you look so young for your age,' etc. It's obvious to me what she is doing."

"Perhaps she is just feeling insecure, and wants to be more agreeable."

"Oh, she's very agreeable. She should have been this agreeable with her ex."

"Now, Leri…"

"I know what you're going to say, but I haven't told you all. This is the real trouble, in my opinion: a couple of weeks ago your father told Penelope that she ought to pay more attention to her muscle tone. Since then she and Elizabeth have been visiting a gym nearby. Last night your father remarked on how much better Mrs. Clay was looking. His words were, 'her figure is much better.' Now, why a man as his age needs to concern himself with that woman's figure…"

"I understand, and I'm afraid I have no influence with her. Elizabeth will not be convinced. I have already made myself odious by warning her about her spending habits."

"So, I suppose you know about the suite?" Mrs. Russell's voice was almost a whisper.

"Um-hmm."

"Honestly, I can not be blamed for it, though I will take credit for talking them into a smaller suite. They looked at the largest, I'll have you know."

"So, you were there?"

"Anne, I persuaded him to call Shepherd about it, and your father went right out and the signed the papers the very next day! You may be sure that Mr. Shepherd tried to change his mind. I am quite convinced he would have done so, if Elizabeth had not been so determined." Anne groaned, and Mrs. Russell continued. "There is one good thing about the situation. Elizabeth has decided to try the budget you wrote up for them when they moved here. I believe she thinks it will make it easier to afford the place. We shall see."

Anne did not respond. There was nothing she could say to affect the turn of events.

"There's one more thing. It's rather shocking," Valeria hesitated in such a manner that Anne braced herself for the news. "Your father's agent called him up about doing some promotional work, and I think he is entertaining the idea."

"Really," Anne could not believe her ears. Her father, a man known for his abhorrence of anything that did not fit his notion of excellent taste, was contemplating doing some sort of advertising? Was this a good thing?" Anne's feelings were instinctually against it.

"What type of work, do you know?"

"I don't," Mrs. Russell hesitated. Then she stated, "Anne, I can't help but feel deeply that this can not be beneficial to his…his reputation." Immediately, the younger woman recognized that this fear, so close to her own misgivings, was not at the crux of what kept her from giving approval. It was fear for her father's happiness. Should he lose that regard he so desperately valued and cherished, it would crush him.

Sensing that she had said enough on the subject, Mrs. Russell quickly changed it. "How is Charlie now?"

"He is doing well. He is watching TV on the couch. I really didn't think it necessary to have him in bed all day yesterday, but I did not want to go against Mary's wishes. He is very anxious to be up again; I am doing my best to keep him occupied, and still give Walter attention as well."

"Where is Mary?"

Anne hesitated. How much should she tell Valeria? "She is at an art exhibition."

"Really…I think she should not leave you with the boys so much."

"Oh, I don't mind, and it isn't really her doing. The nanny has been ill."

"But, still…"

"I'm just fine, and I enjoy the time I am spending with my nephews. Truly I do. Sometimes I forget how lonesome I get in the city. I can't possibly be lonesome here." Truthfully, Anne's desire to leave was for a completely different reason. A reason she did not wish to broach with Valeria Russell. Nor did she wish to let on her concerns about staying for fear the woman would question her.

"Do you see Charles' family often, then?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, I miss you, and I plan to be back home soon." The older woman sighed as though it were the happiest of thoughts.

"Oh? When?" Anne tried to keep a casual tone.

"I haven't decided yet. But, when I get back, I'm coming right over there to rescue you. I'll pack you up myself if I have to. Then you can fly back with me."

"You're going back to New York?"

"Of course! I wouldn't be a good god-mother if I left you to deal with Elliot and Elizabeth alone. Who knows, perhaps I can persuade Penelope to fly back with me when I return home." Mrs. Russell laughed at the thought.

Anne said nothing; she was contemplating the news. With Charlie's accident, all her thoughts of leaving had been postponed until he recovered. Now, Valeria's plans to fly back left Anne feeling as though the decision to stay had been made for her.

"I've decided that Henrietta really is the best match for Frederik," Mary Musgrove stated to her husband over dinner that evening.

Both Charles and Anne were getting tired of this subject of conversation, especially since they had been enduring it for some forty minutes. Yet, this statement, to which Charles had expressed his dislike, forced a response from him.

"Mary, why are you so interested in having Henrietta married? She is only 19! I don't see-"

"If you knew what I know, you'd understand," she stated mysteriously, and, for once, left it at that. Charles turned to Anne for some explanation, but the older sister could be of no assistance.

"Well, enlighten us then. I know I'd like to understand."

"I can't. It's a matter of confidence." Mary quickly finished eating and got up from the table.

"Are there to be any more trips to the museum, then?" Charles asked, as his wife went to the kitchen.

"Not to the museum, but you are going golfing with your father, Frederik, and Edward tomorrow. Then we are to have dinner at your parents."

"Thank you for notifying me," Charles expressed his annoyance.

"Oh, and that reminds me. I need to call Jenny tonight. Anne, would you mind watching the boys again, if she is still ill?"

"No, not at all." Anne was relieved to be so little involved with the new acquaintances of the Grand Manor.

"Mary, I believe you need to find someone else to care for the kids." Charles' remark surprised both his wife and her sister.

"Well, it's not like I planned it this way!"

"Mom was telling me that she met an old friend the other day. She's living here with family, and is looking for work as a live-in nanny; a grandmotherly sort."

Mary's eyes narrowed. "The boys have a grandmother. Why doesn't she volunteer?"

"Now, Mary that is not the point."

"No, of course it isn't! It's not the point that they complain about anyone I try to hire, and never lift a finger to help!"

"That's not true."

But, Mary was out of the room. Anne and Charles both heard the bedroom door slam.

"I'll go check on the boys," Anne announced, quickly removing herself from the room.

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**A/N: Still more touch-ups to earlier chapters; chapters two and three have now been updated. I am working on chapter 23 of this story. So, please review. Then I'll know you're ready for the next chapter. **

**xXxlilnoel09xXx: Yours is one of my best compliments yet! I have been very concerned about the flow of this story, jumping from present to past. So glad you are finding it a good read.**

**Lady Mage: Your words have silenced that little voice that keeps saying, "It's not really that good, my dear. That's why there haven't been that many reviews." I'll keep writing, and thank you.**


	14. The Awakening of Christine

Chapter 14

The next morning, Mary informed Anne that Jenny would be caring for the boys during the evening.

"So, you will be able to come with us!" Mary never let on about the argument of the previous night. She preferred to sulk in Charles' presence instead. The only time Anne heard her speak to Charles was when he returned home that evening.

"Jenny will be here tonight," she announced firmly.

"Good," was all Charles responded as he programmed his TiVo.

Anne prepared for the dinner in the best way she could; she did not think about it.

"We met John Poole on the course today," Dr. Musgrove told the women sitting around the table. He turned to Edward, "Don't be surprised if you are invited to a party soon in your honor." Edward looked to him to explain, and Dr. Musgrove chuckled.

"The Poole's love to give parties for any occasion," explained Mrs. Musgrove.

"And they are quite fun when the right people are there," expressed Louisa, looking at Frederik.

"And who are the right people?" asked Frederik. Anne could tell by his voice that he was somehow displeased with her statement and wanted her to elaborate. Louisa did not seem fazed; her statement was guileless.

"Why, haven't you figured out that you fall into that category, dear?" The endearing term was a bit much, but the other guests in the room did not let on. Anne looked at Dr. Musgrove, wondering what he must think.

He looked completely oblivious and continued. "Yes, I shouldn't wonder if they give a party within the next week."

Mrs. Musgrove looked slightly embarrassed by her husband's remark. Quietly she stated, "If they do not, it might be such a disappointment that we might consider giving one instead."

Both Louisa and Henrietta were ecstatic immediately. "Oh, yes let's!" Even Mary looked overjoyed.

"Should we have a little party, then?" Dr. Musgrove's eyes were twinkling.

"I shall organize it," exclaimed Louisa immediately. "And, of course, it will need to be in honor of Frederik as well."

"Well, I don't see how that would suit, since I will be leaving for Florida in four days."

The sighs of protest were an objection to such an announcement.

"Do you really have to go so soon?" Henrietta's blue eyes looked at him so pleadingly.

"You must remember I have this piece of musical theater I need to attend to."

"So, it's business," ascertained Louisa, looking glum and picking at the almonds in her green beans.

"Sort of," stated Frederik. "I am soliciting the help of some old friends regarding a song that the producers are wanting changed." All felt the lack of excitement that had filled the room only moments before. Frederik continued, "So…I will be flying to St. Augustine on Tuesday."

"Oh! I want to vacation in St. Augustine." Mary's eyes alighted on Charles, and then, remembering that she was ignoring him, back down to her plate.

"We should all go," decided Louisa. "It would be a good break for Henrietta and me before we go back to school as well."

"Well, I am not going to Florida," contradicted Mrs. Musgrove, concerned that her daughter's enthusiasm would override her own desires to stay at home.

"Nor are we," exclaimed Mrs. Wentworth. "Though I am sure it would be fun, I am just getting settled."

Mary was beginning to see a trend and wasn't pleased with the way things were going. "Well, I think it would be lovely. Don't you, Anne?"

Anne did not know how to answer. This whim of Louisa's had not seemed realistic in the first place. But now, she felt as though she needed to support Mary; and generally speaking, she had nothing against the thought of vacationing in Florida. "Yes, it does sound lovely," she finally answered. And the golden eyes which had rested on her as she formulated her answer quickly reverted to Louisa as Anne, unconsciously, turned to look at him.

"Well then, if we are to have a group this large, I should get in touch with a friend of mine about using his jet." There were pleased expressions and words of delight given to his remark.

Even Charles seemed taken with the idea. "You know, we haven't had a vacation in quite a while." Mary's face broke into a grin, and her former irritation with him was forgotten.

The dinner guests moved into the music room after supping, and Louisa, jubilant about the trip, was ready to show off her musical skill. She played a lovely piece on the harp. Afterwards, Louisa moved to the piano and motioned for Frederik to attend her.

Frederik had been speaking with Mrs. Musgrove. For that kind lady had an overabundance of concern about the safety of the proposed jet plane. Though tentatively stated, her doubts about the projected plan were made plain to Mr. Wentworth.

Anne overheard him say, "I assure you, Mrs. Musgrove, I know of no better pilot than the one my friend employs. He is very safe, and his plane is top of the line. I will take good care of your daughters." His manner with her was very gentle and reminded the single woman of the manner in which he had spoken of his mother years ago.

It had been the first time she had felt at ease with him. He had let down his guard for a brief moment, and she had seen the lost boy inside.

"_We will sing a different song today," he announced as she knocked upon the door and walked into the room at his welcome. It was a week into the new school year, and Erik, being very pleased with her return, had been less strict with her and given more compliments than she knew she really deserved. _

"_I am sure you are familiar with it, but the music is on the chair for you."_

_Anne picked up sheets. It was _Dido's Lament_. She scanned the words to remind herself of the feeling of the song. She felt the lump in her throat and tried to swallow it. Trying to push aside the emotions it brought to mind, she listened to his playing and concentrated on the music._

"_When I am laid, am laid-"_

_His hands rested on the piano. There was silence, and Anne knew the reason._

"_You must concentrate on the words you are singing. What is the meaning behind the song? How can you best convey that to me? Begin again." The pianist started a few meters before she would sing this time._

_Anne tried to allow the feeling of the song to be translated through her but did not let the words filter through her own memories. This time she made it to the second stanza._

"_...am laid in earth, may my wrongs create-"_

_The piano ceased its chords again. "Where are you?" The whispered words were behind her, in front of her, and beside her all at once. "You sing your exercises with more feeling."_

"_I can't sing this song." He waited, and she felt she had to explain, but couldn't. "You just don't understand," she said as her voice broke in frustration._

"_Do you really believe I don't understand?"_

'_Did he know about her mother?' she asked herself. He seemed to know everything else. But this was something she would not discuss with him._

"_Erik," it was the first time she had used his name, "I refuse to sing this song." She set the paper down but hesitated to walk out the door._

"_Do you think you can ever really love her if you never really sing for her?"_

_That was too much. "What do you mean?" The emotions boiled over and she could not stop herself. "I do sing to her!"_

"_I know you sing to her, Christine. I know every note that comes from your being that you pray will reach her ears." He allowed the quietness in the room to still her beating heart. Then he asked, gently, "But do you sing _for_ her?" Anne could not answer._

"_Do you want to allow yourself to really sing the way she knew you would one day?"_

"_I want to sing for her. I do." Anne replied, softly._

"_That is why I am here. I can help you to do that, but you must open the door to those feelings. Let them have a voice."_

_Anne's eyes were swimming. "I can't," she whispered._

"_You are. Now, pick up the music and sing it. Pick it up." His last words were a tender command. He began to play again._

_Anne lost control of her voice after the first stanza but continued to sing. The salty taste was on her lips as the streams of her tears covered her cheeks._

"_Remember me, but ah! Forget my fate."_

_And somewhere between the haunting melody and the power of the words emerged a voice that pleaded in the purest tones. It was the voice of Christine._

"_Forget my fate," she finished. The piano faded away, and Christine found herself standing in the cluttered room, yet miles away in a peaceful, tranquil place. Her eyes were closed, and she did not want to open them._

"_Was she beautiful?" Erik asked her quietly._

"_She was so beautiful," answered Christine, and a smile was on her face._

"_Did she sing you to sleep?"_

_Christine only nodded. "She gave my fingers little kisses when I went to bed and told me that each kiss was a happy dream. I always had happy dreams when she gave me those kisses."_

"_Was her scent like fresh flowers?"_

_Christine breathed in. "I don't know what her scent was, but it was lovely. Sometimes…sometimes I can still smell it when I'm by myself, and I think 'are you here, mummie?'"_

"_And is she?"_

"_Sometimes," Christine whispered. "Sometimes I know she's there." And then Christine knew; he understood. "What did your mother look like?" she asked him in return._

_His voice was full of a singular joy as he spoke. "She had dark blue eyes that reminded me of a night sky filled with stars. Her hair was dark and wavy, the way yours is when you curl it. She loved to sing, and she taught me to play. I remember how she used to laugh-"_

_A noise of heavy footsteps in the chapel overhead caught both of their attentions. From the distance an older man spoke loudly, "Who's in here?"_

"_Christine! You didn't shut the door," he admonished in a hushed voice._

_Christine moved as though to go back up to the chapel, but Erik stated, "No, it is too late. I will take you out another way."_

It was then that he had led her to the rooms where he lived under the opera house.

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**A/N: I am pathetic for telling this, I know, but when I wrote this I couldn't keep from crying. Did this chapter move you? I want to know if I got the emotions across.**

**xXx-dee-xXx: How lucky you are to be brought up in a place with so much knowledge and history of E.B.B.'s life! The love she and Robert Browning shared through poetry is extremely touching. I couldn't help but correlate her story of waiting with this one.**

**Reader: I omitted to point out that E.B.B.'s Sonnet IX was from her **_**Sonnets from the Portuguese**_**. Forgive me, and I've changed that.**

**Ana-Misa: Thanks for your thoughts on Mary; I have a special affection for her. I hope I have portrayed her well. As far as which man Anne will end up with, tell me: who would you prefer? Not that the story is going to change; I'm just wondering.**


	15. The Mysterious Wonder

Chapter 15

Louisa was at the piano with Frederik when she asked, "Why are you called the 'mysterious wonder'?" The words brought Anne back to her surroundings. Dr. Musgrove was in conversation with Edward and Charles. Mrs. Musgrove had moved to listen to Mary's conversation with Laticia Wentworth who was sitting beside Anne.

"Well, I don't call myself that," he smiled, but didn't give any more information.

"I think I know why," joined in Henrietta. "It is because no one knows much about your life."

"Yes," added Louisa, "I want to know all about you. For instance, where were you born, and where did you grow up?"

Frederik was playing a short little melody in the upper octaves when he answered without looking at either sister. "In a house." His answer seemed calculated to be coy, but Anne knew he detested speaking of his past to any person.

"Well, that is no answer at all!" Louisa smiled, and tried again.

"You were brought up in France, weren't you?"

"And what is this?" he asked, changing the subject and uncovering the theme song from _The Siren of the Laconia_. "It looks as though you have already researched me. How did you get this?"

"Oh, Louisa can get anything if she sets her mind on it." Henrietta looked a bit cross as she said the words. The younger sister was leaning over the piano to have part in the conversation with the couple.

"I will play it for you, Frederik." Louisa began the piece. Anne could tell her playing was somewhat uneasy. She stopped halfway through it and asked, "There. Was that not good for having never seen a performance?"

"Shall I play it for you?" Louisa looked somewhat disappointed, having been fishing for a compliment. Anne felt the older sister's discomfort. Frederik's manners were polite and nothing out-of-the-ordinary, but they lacked polish. He was not comfortable with the attentions of this small group. He seemed to be bungling his way through it; and Anne wondered why he went to such pains, for he did not seem to relish Louisa's flirtations or Henrietta's adoration.

He began to play, and Louisa sat on the seat with her hands in her lap. He stopped and seemed to be aware that he had hurt her feelings. "I have another song from the _Siren_ out in the car. I can get it for you."

Louisa smiled. And Henrietta chimed in, "Oh, yes!"

When Frederik returned, he arranged the sheet music on the piano rack. "Excuse the scribbling. This is the score I have to rearrange," he sighed, looking at a page for a moment. "The producers in Paris thought the piece was fine, but these new producers are harder to persuade." He turned and spoke to Louisa, though the entire room was listening due to his leave-taking and return. "The musical is not opera, but this one song requires an operatic range and quality. Using an operatic soprano to sing the _Siren's Song_ wasn't a problem before. It was worked so that the singer was not onstage, though the voice is known to be the Siren's."

"So, the Siren sings this song, but the woman who performs as the Siren doesn't actually have to sing it?" asked Henrietta, trying to understand.

"Yes, exactly. This song is suppose to embody the power of the Siren's spell, so the difference in the vocal range and physical absence of the Siren creates that-"

"I wish you could see the play," interrupted Edward. "You would understand then. This portion is so captivating. Honestly, Frederik, I don't know how you are going to replace that piece with anything that will enthrall an audience as well."

"I am at a loss. That is why I am going to visit Harville next week."

"Oh, is that who we will be meeting in St. Augustine?" asked Louisa.

"Yes. He's an incredible musician. We were working together when I was composing this." Frederik looked up and shrugged. "We were contracted to play on a cruise line touring the Caribbean for two years."

He began to play the music, and Anne felt a shiver run through her. The song sounded like the one she had heard him play when she had first knocked at the door underneath the chapel. It had a happy, trickling flow. It had been her favorite piece. The song changed to a minor key, and the melody became melancholy. Still, it was beautiful, and Anne's eyes caught Laticia Wentworth's as they both listened.

"I understand you were in France and met Frederik," she said after a while. She was sitting in a way that gave the impression she was eager to listen, yet she could address the small woman without being heard.

"Yes, I was going to school there."

"Has he changed much?" she asked but did not elaborate on the object of her question.

"Yes," Anne said simply.

The music stopped, and Frederik stood up. "The music is good, but it lacks something without the voice of the Siren." The man made as though to leave the piano, but Louisa caught his hand.

"That can't be all," she said. "Please, come back and play it through."

"Without the singer, it is not worth listening to. In fact, it's not worth keeping in the performance at all, in my opinion." Frederik spoke to the people in the room, as though to excuse himself. Anne could see how much he disliked having his hand held by Louisa, yet Charles' sister was unaware that her urgings were having a negative effect. But Anne saw the stiffness in his posture and knew that he was beginning to be angered.

She turned to Edward, but he was not looking at his brother, so engrossed was he in something being discussed by Dr. Musgrove. Anne felt she must do something, and though she had no desire to put herself in the spotlight, she feared for the scene that might occur if she did not. She stood up.

"May I see the piece, Louisa?" she asked tentatively.

"That's right! Anne, you can sing it." Louisa released Frederik's hand and gave her the sheet music. "You know, Anne sings very well."

"She does," responded Frederik. It was so quiet that it sounded like a question.

"Yes, she used to perform on stage. Didn't you, Anne?"

Anne did not know how to respond. Her request to peruse the musical score had only been meant as a distraction for Frederik to escape the strong-willed Louisa gracefully. As she gazed on the proffered pages, she realized she had given the wrong impression. She could not very well refuse to sing it now. Would Frederik think that she had asked to see the music because she wished to sing it? Was her misstep now viewed by him as a desire to show-off or preen herself in front of the Musgroves' guests?

She wanted to look into his face and surmise what he must be feeling but dared not. She had not looked at him full in the face since their abrupt first meeting outside of Dr. Musgrove's study. And, even then, she had not been able to view his features minutely, for his face was one she did not know.

Therefore the poor woman had to content herself with standing beside the instrument and hastily reading the lyrics and melody. Would he decline and refuse to accompany her? Frederik situated himself on the seat again beside Louisa; it appeared that he would not.

Anne could not keep her heart from its galloping as her eyes raced over the lines of the page. Could she possibly contain the emotions going through her enough to sing the piece? For she could hardly believe she was to sing with Erik beside her after so many years.

Frederik reached over and pointed at the notes on the last page over which she was glancing. "As you can see, this is where the siren's spell is overwhelming. It should be expressively triumphant." Anne turned to look at him, but he bent his head down over the piano and began to play the introduction.

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**followthestory: You are such a loyal reviewer! Many thanks. I will look into Austen's Derby, as you've advised.**

**full0fgrace: I am pleased that you find the language comparable, though I was trying to make it slightly easier to comprehend than Austen's language. Will this story be resolved to everyone's satisfaction? We'll have to wait and see… Of one thing I am certain: I was delighted get your review.**


	16. The Siren's Song

**A/N: Lyrics are written by yours truly.**

Chapter 16 – The Siren's Song

The familiar tune was weaving its own spell over Anne as she turned the pages back and readied herself to sing.

"Lost and lonely man

You have wandered far

Far away from life

Far away from love

…

I am waiting here

You are crying out

I have heard your woe

I have felt your fears

From the sea

You will not be lonely

If you come, come to me

Come to me

When the sun

Sees her face upon the sea

Oh my love

I will be no more

I can calm

The ache within your heart

If you will

Come to me."

She stopped as Frederik played a small interlude. This was where he had stopped playing before, but now he continued. Anne was previewing the next portion she would sing with a serious expression on her face, and both performers seemed completely immersed in the song. This heightened the mood in the room and drew the listeners into the music, as well.

Anne sang again:

"This is just the way

You knew it would be

When you said goodbye

When you stole the gales

From the sea

You will not be lonely

If you come, come to me

Come to me

When the sun

Sees her face upon the sea

Oh my love,

I will be no more

I can calm

The ache within your heart

If you will

Come to me."

Frederik's fingers flew across the keys with the passion Anne had forgotten, and the sight brought back her memories of him. It was obvious that he was no longer aware of Louisa's presence, and the younger woman slid off the seat and out of the way of his rapid motions across the instrument.

Anne was trying to follow him on the sheet music. Many of the notes were not written in the music before her. He was improvising, trying to make up for the absence of the orchestral parts. She found her place; the lyrics were noted as _pianissimo_. She sang them softly, but gave them a pleading clarity.

"Are you lonely now?

Here with me?

Let your mind be eased

Lay your fears to rest

In the sea

Feel the waves around you

Feel the water make you free

You will never leave me

Now that you've come, come to me!"

In the last stanza, the dynamics changed. She sang in the manner he had instructed. The melody was more challenging, since she changed octaves in the last stanza. Frederik carried the music to its conclusion, and every listener in the room was silent for a moment, taken in by the intensity of the performance. Then the room became noisy with applause and praise for both singer and virtuoso.

"That was incredible!" exclaimed Edward, coming over to them. He looked at Frederik, "Her voice, it's just…that is what you meant when you told me something was missing in Brussels. I hear the difference."

Louisa was leaning over the piano. "You play so brilliantly, Frederik. I am quite embarrassed now." Louisa dropped her lashes in coquettish repentance.

Anne felt distressed with all the attention and went back to her former place. Henrietta quickly took her position beside the piano as the doorbell sounded.

"Who could that be?" asked Mrs. Musgrove.

"Oh, I hope there isn't something wrong with Charlie!" exclaimed Mary.

The butler escorted the gentleman to the open doorway of the room. The visitor was a complete stranger to all but one of the party.

"Mr. Charles Hayter for Miss Henrietta Musgrove," was announced. Henrietta's father looked at her, and the nineteen-year-old blushed crimson as she got up from the piano where she sat beside Frederik.

"Charles, I – I didn't know you were coming."

Henrietta's Charles was a man with sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He looked to be only a couple of years older than the blushing girl. The man's lips were tight across his teeth, and he was glaring at the man sitting at the piano. There was immediate tension in the room.

"Mama, Daddy, everyone," announced Henrietta, looking like a scared little mouse, "this is Charles Hayter…my fiancé." The girl had almost made it to his side, when the visitor turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. Henrietta did not look at the guests around her but quickly followed him out the door.

The Wentworths decided to follow Henrietta's example once she'd left the house.

"Time for someone to give an explanation," Charles stated when the rest of the family was alone in the room. He looked directly to Louisa.

"It wasn't my secret, Charles. I told her she needed to 'fess up."

"Is she really engaged to him?" her older brother looked as though he dreaded to hear the answer.

"Oh, yes! She has a ring and everything. Only she couldn't get up the nerve to tell you all." She looked at her mother and father. Dr. Musgrove was seated with an expression similar to his son's on his countenance. Louisa shrugged, trying to stay nonchalant about her sister's affairs.

"I told her she should have broken it off long ago," piped in Mary.

"You knew?" Charles stated, looking at his wife, flabbergasted.

"And I hope this incident tonight will bring them both to their senses," Mary's expression was one of a wise and experienced matron of years.

"What is wrong with him, Mary?" Anne asked. Her voice was quiet as she leaned over a rug to help Mrs. Musgrove dab at a coffee spill. It was something her maid could have seen to, but the hostess was most satisfied when her hands were busy. In this case, she needed something to do, and found this an acceptable outlet to aid in maintaining her composure.

"Well, I don't know anything of him personally-"

"No, you don't," interrupted Louisa sharply.

"But," Mary continued, ignoring the interruption, "he is soon to become a minister in some church. Imagine, Henrietta, a preacher's wife!" She looked around the room at her listeners as though this news was enough explanation. There were vacant and confused expressions around her.

"She would be so unhappy, and she would not be able to maintain the same societal standards. I mean, I'm sure he is a good sort of man and all..." The woman was becoming uncomfortably aware that the family members around her did not seem to be in support of her views, for some reason. "But, really! He is not right for Henrietta," she asserted weakly. Then, as a last effort at support, she said, "And she is so young! Charles and I were talking about that the other day, weren't we?"

Charles was shaking his head sadly at his wife.

"Why are you all being so quiet?" Mary asked after no one responded.

"Mary, I think we ought to go home and let Henrietta discuss the rest with her family when she returns," Anne advised as she reached her hand out to her sister.

"Well, I am family, too! Obviously, Henrietta felt that enough to entrust me with her secret."

"Only because you barged in when she was showing me the ring," said Louisa bitterly.

"Louisa!" Mrs. Musgrove said, admonishing her child. Then she turned to her husband. "I think I am going to go up to my room."

"I'll come with you," Louisa offered.

"No, my dear," she told her firmly. As she turned to walk away, she spoke to Louisa again, "But you may tell Henrietta I wish to see her when she returns." Mrs. Musgrove looked crushed and near tears as she made her request.

"Charles, we must go," Mary stated with an offended air. "I need to check on Charlie once more tonight, and I have not been feeling well myself this evening. I hope it is not something catching," she looked up at Louisa reproachfully.

"Well, Dad…" Charles was standing but still unsure of what to say. "We'll be on our way." He patted his father's shoulder, and Dr. Musgrove seemed to return to himself.

"Yes, yes. Goodnight."

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**full0fgrace: Chap 14 was sweet, then? Good. I won't go back and dissect it. I started laughing when I read your inquiry about Louisa's accident. Mainly, because I'm in the midst of writing that and I already know where it will occur. Sorry, no excursions to Disney World, etc. are in the itinerary. The beach? Hmm…I won't tell you. But I don't think you will be disappointed. At least…I hope not.**

**Sweet Christabel: I think I am going to print out your review and hang it on my mirror. "You stroke of genius, you!" I'll state, as I look at my sleepy-eyed, bed-headed-ness each morning. Okay, so you didn't say that **_**I**_** was the stroke of genius.**

**followthestory: Whoo hoo!! I finally got to give you some "bonding" moments between Frederik and Anne! And, you liked it – yippee again! There are more flashbacks to come. Which means more to learn about their relationship, and more cliff-hangers to squeal over.**


	17. Louisa's Outing

Chapter 17

"We have come to check on Charlie. Is he better?" Louisa asked Mary, as she and Henrietta entered her sister-in-law's home in the late morning hours of the next day. "Are you both feeling better?" Anne could not help but notice how Louisa spoke in a very businesslike manner. She could see that, in her own way, the eldest Musgrove daughter was trying to apologize for her snappish remarks to Mary the evening before.

"Charlie is sleeping, but healing well. And I am feeling improved, somewhat," Mary stated crisply. "Where are you off to this morning?"

"We are going sight-seeing today," said Henrietta, who seemed to be in a very sober frame of mind.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful, doesn't it Charles?" Mary's husband was not yet finished with his late breakfast and mumbled some response. It did not matter what his answer might have been; Mary immediately decided that the three of them, Anne included, should join in Louisa and Henrietta's excursion.

"This is the perfect day for an outing; I was thinking so to myself just this morning. It will do me good to get out. And, with Jenny seeing to the boys, we can do as we please." Henrietta could only meet Mary's bright expression with a timid smile. Louisa's face showed that she was not half as delighted with the idea as her sister-in-law. Yet her next words showed that she was resolved to be kind to Mary and only wished to make the trip more palatable to all concerned.

"Yes, of course you and Anne should come," encouraged Louisa. "And Charles, we will certainly need your company, as well. Frederik can not be the only man escorting us on our tour of the city." She did not wait for her brother to acquiesce, but stated, "We will wait for you by the gate."

Charles seemed to take the order with equanimity. "How long will it take you both to get ready?"

It was Anne who felt compelled to accompany them against her own wishes. She settled herself into the back of her brother-in-law's sedan feeling very tired but anxious. Internally, she was still contemplating her feelings on the performance of the night before. She still felt shocked at the way the song had seemed to be meant for her voice. Had he written it with her in mind? These thoughts had been troubling her since she'd left the Grand Manor and a sleepless night had been the result.

Had he wanted her to sing it, or had it been a mistake?' She remembered how he would not look at her. Yet the music was so passionately played by him. She thought about Edward's words,

"…_that is what you meant when you told me something was missing in Brussels_."

Had it really been her voice? But Frederik had never uttered a word of praise or critique. But, of course, he wouldn't. He had made it clear by his avoidance of her that he did not desire to do anything but go along as though nothing of consequence had ever occurred between them.

Anne dearly wished to allow some space of time to elapse after such an event. But perhaps he had not thought anything of it. These were her next thoughts once they reached their destination. For, when they began to walk, Frederik took up immediately with Louisa, Charles with Mary, and Anne found herself walking beside a very quiet Henrietta.

She wished desperately to ask the depressed-looking creature what ailed her but had some inkling that something had occurred in the discussion between Henrietta and Charles Hayter the night before. It had not gone well, she perceived. So the two women walked behind the rest of the sight-seers for a good part of the way in a difficult silence.

Louisa had chosen to visit a shopping area just slightly away from the bustling downtown. Anne found her choice somewhat odd but was more than elated to find she was not required to make much effort at conversation. She contented herself with window shopping. A few of the businesses in the area displayed antique jewelry, which Louisa perused, stopping to admire some brooch or pendant. (For the twenty-three-year-old vowed they were the only antiques worth having; the furniture she found too trying to coordinate.) Yet the general movement of the party was somewhat rushed. Louisa and Frederik, being in the lead, were more accustomed to a faster pace, it was supposed.

Only once they rounded a block and began to approach an intersection did Anne begin to understand the intent of the outing. "Look," stated Louisa, turning and looking back at Henrietta, "isn't that the church where Charles Hayter has just been hired to preach?"

Henrietta's face went white, and she did not continue to trudge ahead. For, truly, at that moment the four in the rear had begun to find themselves quite exhausted by the pace of the couple before them. Mary, just ahead, stopped as well.

"Well, now, I think we should go back. This has been quite enough walking for me."

"Look," began Charles, beside her, "the building is only a few more paces. We might as well go in and rest a bit before we start back."

"No, that hill is too much for me to try, and I'd much rather go back now, if you please."

Charles looked behind him and back at her incredulously. The path they had just taken had been downhill. Whereas the sloping expanse where the church building was situated, in comparison to the climb they would make to return, was noticeably less. The summer heat was draining them all. Charles, not willing to stay in it for such irrational reasons, turned to his wife and stated, "Well, I'm going to cool off in the building for a few minutes."

Louisa had grabbed Henrietta's hand and was forcibly pulling her onto the church's premises. Frederik did not follow. Why he did not go, Anne could not help but question. Certainly he must be roasting in his long-sleeves, but she did not deem it wise to inquire. Mary was looking for a place to sit, and they continued on up the street for a few paces until they came to a bus stop with a sufficient covering to give some reprieve from the heat, it was hoped.

Frederik did not sit down beside the two, but waited beside it, all the time staring off in the direction of the grounds of Charles Hayter's new employ.

"Oh, Anne, I feel so upset with Louisa's attempts! What is that girl thinking? Does she want her sister tied to a church, having to live a very restricted life for the rest of her days? She is doing her sister no credit leading her here, then forcing her to reconcile with that man again."

Anne could feel Frederik's anger. The man had always had an innate ability to make his emotions almost tangible. She raced over Mary's words and perceived the offense.

"…_having to live a very restricted life for the rest of her days."_ She could easily relate them to her own situation when her god-mother and his sister had persuaded her that her life with Erik would have been a meager existence. She knew that this was the train of thought of the man waiting nearby.

"I feel so sorry for Henrietta to have such relations – totally unconcerned with how she will be viewed in society. Why, she may as well sign herself up to be a nun, and be closed off from the world entirely."

Oh, how Anne wished her sister would be silent. Oblivious as Mary was of how her words rankled, every word continued to flow from her lips as a grating reminder.

Gratefully, Anne could make out Louisa's figure as she crossed the street and made her way toward them. Her face was flushed, but she sighed happily. "There!" she stated. "I do hope you will forgive me for requesting that you stay behind. I think Henrietta's fiancé got the wrong impression of you when he first came in last night." Frederik did not answer. So Louisa continued, "He thought, seeing her sitting with you at the piano… Oh, never mind what he thought; all will be righted soon. Should we walk?"

"Yes," Frederik's answer was firm, and the two removed themselves from the view of the two women.

"I am quite overheated. Are we sitting in an oven?" Mary said in her irritated state. The sisters had waited for Charles or one of his sisters to return for a quarter of an hour.

"We might do best to go into the building, Mary. Surely Charles has found a cooler shelter," Anne attempted to persuade.

"I don't see why he didn't find us another building. There were plenty of shops on the walk from which we came."

"I don't think he wanted to climb the hill again before a rest."

"Nor do I, but I am scorching. And I am sure Louisa has found a better place to keep cool by now."

"Look; across the way there. There is a lovely old tree beside the hedges with a bench in the shade. Do you see it?"

"Yes, but I'm not-"

"We will not go into the grounds, Mary. We will stay on the bench, outside the hedge around the building."

Mary was still vexed that she was left by all of the others but soon agreed to walk to the bench to sit in the shade. She sat for a few moments with sighs and anxious gestures. "I just know Louisa is sitting in an air-conditioned shop near by. I'm going to look for her." And with that, she left her sister to rest under the tree by herself.

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**followthestory: I can't help it: I love cliffhangers. And, no she didn't cry after the song. Ever notice how worrying about something is much worse than the actual event? (Well, generally speaking, of course.) But, she still had a horrible night of it, poor thing.**

**Ana-Misa: Oh, I love your response about which man Anne will choose! Yes, putting the two stories together does leave one in a terrible quandary. You are wise to wait.**


	18. A Place in the Shade

Chapter 18

Anne, at that point, was really very tired. Her tiredness from lack of sleep was draining her enough, but to endure the jaunt they had taken toward the church building would make the most enthusiastic sight-seer lose interest.

A delightful breeze caught the lower tree limbs and made its way across the brow of the woman sitting beneath the great tree. Her ears lit on the sounds of the leaves as they rustled on their branches in the wind's path. She also caught the sound of voices and felt certain as to whom they belonged. Louisa and Frederik were now walking close by, though she could not yet ascertain whether they were moving toward her or away.

Shortly thereafter, she heard their voices grow louder. Should she leave her place under the tree? She did not wish to meet up with them, if it could be helped. Yet her aching limbs resisted any impulse to get up and move away from the bench. Louisa's words became clearer, and Anne heard her say, "…she had no intentions of explaining the situation to him. I told her that an engagement is not something one should enter into flippantly. It's a promise; it's giving your word. And the least she should be able to do is to talk to the person she's promised to marry!"

"She wasn't intending to talk to him?"

"No! She was going to run away from the whole business. And, yet, she's miserable. At the same time she was trying to keep it secret, she could not quit talking to me about him! Tell me: if you love someone enough to promise to marry them, then isn't it ridiculous to hide it from the people you love? I don't understand her. I know that if I were in her position, I should know my own mind.

"Henrietta is fortunate to have you as her sister," stated Frederik. His voice held a tinge of resentment. "If she wishes to be content, then she needs to decide what route to follow and be faithful in that determination. We can never fully have satisfaction in the direction of the life we will lead if we don't decide on any direction. A person who is rocked by every wave that life throws in that person's path will never feel a sense of joy at having made it to a destination. Take this leaf, for example…"

Anne saw a bough directly over her head lower, having been bent, she assumed, by the speaker.

"It is a healthy green…smooth, and yet it has been chewed upon by some insect. Did it give up and lose its color, dropping to the ground in despair? No. It knows its purpose. It directs its surface to the light of the sun and gathers nutrients all the same. It has had a harder time than the more perfect leaves around it, perhaps, but it does not shirk from the one task for which it has been formed. And so is the duty of us all, don't you think? We are on this earth to choose the life we will lead and not to allow others to choose what we will do or be. I hope that anyone that I am close to will know what they are about. I find it very admirable that you, Louisa, have proven you are happily capable of choosing your path and directing your life accordingly."

There was silence for some minutes, in which time Anne dearly wished she could remove herself. Yet the opinions of Frederik Wentworth, stated so intensely, brought such a desire within the eavesdropper's heart to cheerfully acknowledge the evident triumph of the man who had, nine years ago, wished to waste away hidden from the eyes of the world beneath a crumbling building. To this feeling, though, was added a much harsher emotion, that of shame. For Anne had been lately made aware of this very flaw in her own character.

"Well, my sister would do better to have a sister-in-law that did not try to persuade her to doubt her own decisions." After a brief pause, Louisa continued. "I am quite fed up with Mary's interference at the moment. I beg you not to think me mean in my judgment of her, but I must say frankly that I blame her most in this affair. Ever since she overheard Henrietta's admission to me, she has done nothing but preach to my sister about how wrong the marriage would be and how it would be viewed. And, worst of all, she made Henrietta more fearful than she needed to be about divulging it to my parents. I believe I had almost convinced her to go to Mama, and I think she would have done so had it not been for Mary's meddling. She is so occupied with wealth and association with the elite."

"Tell me, is it a trait that the entire family shares?"

"Well, not Anne."

"No?"

"Oh, no. Anne is…well, we all love Anne. We all wish that she had accepted Charles when he'd asked her."

"Your brother proposed to Anne?"

"Oh, yes. But she was influenced to reject him by her godmother, Valeria Russell, I believe. Of course, I have no proof of this. You must think me a terrible gossip."

"No, I think you are a very devoted sister and a rare one who would do so much to see to the happiness of those she loves."

By now the couple stood directly behind the row of hedges where Anne sat, tense in every fiber of her aching being. But, just as she felt that she would be found out again, the voices began to retreat. She breathed a sigh of relief, yet felt vexed with herself for having been privy to another of Frederik's conversations. This one had been closer to home, having dwelt somewhat on herself and her family members. She did not wish to be caught thrice in the same scenario. For, invariably, as the saying went, nothing good would be said about the listener.

Still shaken by the words - by the very passionate statements spoken by Frederik - she went in search of Mary. For she knew there would be some safety in being in the company of her sister, since Louisa would be more apt to avoid the woman. Yet she had barely crossed the street before someone was calling her name. It was Charles.

"Anne!" He walked across to her side before asking, "Where is Mary? Has she gone back to the car?"

"I was just going to look for her. She went to find an air-conditioned shop to rest in."

Charles looked put out. "Well, that could be anywhere." Anne could see behind him that his sisters had met back up, and with them were Frederik and Charles Hayter. Charles Musgrove turned to look behind him, as well. "He's a good man," he stated, almost to himself. His next words surprised the woman beside him. "I think Mary almost succeeded in making Henrietta very unhappy."

Anne turned to look at her brother-in-law as his sisters started across the road to meet them and saw a simmering anger in his expression. This was not the usual demeanor of the easy-going man. Anne wished, for Mary's sake, that she was somewhere close by.

The group stood at the intersection for a moment, trying to decide which direction to take in search of Mary, when the woman herself hailed them from a block up the street. She was waving her hand merrily and gesturing as though they should come to her. None of the party made a move to do so, and soon Mary was forced to go to them.

"Couldn't you hear me?" she asked, brightly. Her face was somewhat flushed, but she was smiling happily. "I found the cutest little tea room around the other side of that street," she pointed to where she had been. Everyone was turning to walk in the other direction, heading back to where the cars were parked.

"Well, what is wrong with them?" she asked Anne, as Charles walked on without her.

"We are all tired, Mary," her sister responded. "I think everyone just wants to get back."

"Well, I was only offering refreshment. They had the tastiest homemade lemonade." Mary was walking rather quickly now, passing others of the party. Anne tried her best to keep up, so afraid was she that Mary would position herself beside Charles or Louisa at that moment. Truly, the older sister wanted to protect her sibling from being hurt, even if the fault was Mary's own.

As Anne passed Louisa and Frederik, who were now between the swiftly moving Charles at the front and the meandering Henrietta and Mr. Hayter at the rear, the former stated, "Isn't that Edward and Laticia?" Frederik looked up to view Anne as she passed, then looked behind where Louisa pointed to see his brother and his sister-in-law in a horse-drawn carriage coming toward them on the street. Edward was waving his arms at them quite wildly, and the driver, having to slow the gait of his horse, was reminding the man to stay seated.

Finally, Edward caught up with the group, saying, "Why didn't you tell us you were to be in town today? We could all have taken a stroll together." He perused the faces before him and continued, "Well, I can see you are on your way back. It has been a very hot day for sight-seeing."

"Does someone need a ride?" asked the considerate Mrs. Wentworth.

"Yes, I'm sure Andy here won't mind if we take a side-route."

"Not at all, sir. I'm happy to," stated the driver.

There was room for one or two of them, but no one volunteered. Henrietta looked pleased just where she was. It was clear to everyone that whatever argument had happened between the engaged couple was now a memory of the past. They were in their own little world and barely noticed the fellow-walkers around them.

Louisa, looking happily at her sister, was not the least interested in leaving those which she had had a part in bringing back together. Anne dearly wished to get off her feet, but did not want to leave Mary's side.

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**Ana-Misa: Cool! You actually thought about what the song might sound like. That is a major compliment for me. You could probably tell that the lyrics have a Phantom-esque quality. It may never come to fruition, but if I do get a simplistic rendition of it worked out, I will be sure to post its whereabouts on my profile.**

**followthestory: You are very astute, my friend. Anne was definitely a predominant influence for **_**The Siren's Song**_**. But, what does it mean for the future? There will be more about the play, the song, and the reactions of the characters as the story progresses.**

**Sweet Christabel: I see where you get your name now. That was very sweet! I've squeezed in "Comer Upper of" in tiny print on the paper attached to my mirror. Just kidding. Maybe. (lol) So, Mary is just as irritating… Good. Didn't want to under or overdo it.**


	19. The Tale of the Siren

Chapter 19

The carriage was soon to continue down the walk, when Frederik moved to speak to his relatives.

"Anne," stated Edward. "Laticia and I would love for you to join us. There is plenty of room."

Without thinking how it occurred, she felt Frederik's arms hoist her up onto the top step. She climbed in and turned to thank him, but he had already returned to Louisa's side. His head was bent toward her to hear some remark she gave.

"I think you are being abominably rude," Anne heard Mary say in a petulant voice as the carriage moved forward. She turned to see that her sister had met up with Charles, who seemed to be ignoring his wife. Anne was too awe-struck to dwell long upon the scene. She sat back and stared at the sidewalk as they moved along.

It had been so kind of Frederik to see that she was given a reprieve from the exertions of the day. She could not help but feel that his quiet considerations of her were proof of his true nature. For, beneath the carefully constructed walls he built to protect himself, and the passionate language he used to express his resolve, resided a warm and protecting spirit. She had known it years before in the chapel as she had listened to him playing with the yearning of the friendless soul within. She had known it from the softness of his voice when he had expressed his adoration for his departed mother then.

Perhaps he would never forgive her for her decision to leave, but at least he showed that he could be amicable and even considerate toward her. This thought bolstered her in the idea that she would go on in life without feeling as though she should berate herself for past mistakes; his character had not been harmed irretrievably.

"So, you are off to St. Augustine soon," conversed Edward Wentworth.

"Yes, it seems we are," Anne stated softly. The other two passengers could see that though she was very fatigued, she was trying to show herself agreeable. Her good-tempered character had shown itself to the husband and wife early on. Edward, ever delighted to keep up the conversation, found a willing listener in the quiet Anne Elliot.

"I'm sure if Harville is anything like Frederik speaks of him, he and his wife will see that you will all enjoy yourselves," continued the man.

"I've never been to St. Augustine. I'm sure it will be very enjoyable," she replied. The breeze on the carriage ride was helping to ease the headache that had been threatening to afflict her.

"It's a very beautiful old town," responded Laticia now. "We've visited there once."

"Laticia is a bit of a gypsy. She loves to go wherever business takes me. She's a wonderful traveling partner," Edward turned to smile at Anne. "Perhaps someday my brother will be so lucky as to find such a catch."

Anne saw the man squeeze his wife's hand, and she looked up at him with a tender expression, then back towards the city scenery.

"Tell me, have you ever considered the stage, Anne? I was just telling my wife I have not heard a voice as emotive as yours when you were singing the other day."

"I think the song was very moving in itself," claimed Anne, trying to steer the conversation away from her.

"It is. I can tell you, I don't know how Frederik's play will do without that song. It is a very moving, even integral, part of the whole theatrical performance."

"Had you heard of the production before?" Mrs. Wentworth asked Anne.

"Only the name. Can you tell me the premise behind it?"

"It's based on a legendary ship that repeatedly sets out to sea and drowns the crew aboard her with only a few survivors. A captain learns about the _Laconia_ and decides to command her. It's really his story; how he meets with the siren of the ship."

Edward turned to his wife, allowing her to remark, "The Siren is the spirit that roams the craft and lures the sailors to their deaths. It's quite tragic really, but there is something very romantic about it, I think," Laticia concluded.

"I never thought of it as very romantic," her husband mused. "A spirit of a vengeful woman lying in wait to destroy sailors who find themselves lost at sea…no, I don't quite understand your meaning."

"I am speaking of the way she convinces each that they must come to her, and all of these men believe that she is their own…that they are in love with her and she with them. It is quite spellbinding, and I think there is something very romantic about it. Tragically romantic, of course."

Edward was looking at his wife with feigned surprise at her views on the subject. Yet, she smiled at him serenely. "I suppose that every woman has some semblance of a siren within her," he announced. At his wife's reproof, he laughed heartily.

"Here we are now," he stated as the carriage slowed, and Anne found herself nearing the section of town where Charles' car was parked.

"Thank you for the ride. It was very kind of you."

"Not at all!" said Frederik's brother. Then he turned and asked his wife, "Shall we wait with her until the others arrive?"

Anne did not give her time to respond. "Oh, no. Go on ahead. They will be here shortly. They are coming around the corner there, you see? Please, you don't need to wait here with me."

They bid her good day, and the driver gave the command for his horse to pull the carriage from the curb.

Anne wished for nothing but to be alone with this new knowledge of the story of the siren. The melody of the song that had seemed to be made for her voice floated back to her as she had sung it the night before. Now she could not help but wonder: if the song was written with her in mind, what was Frederik saying about her? Was she an evil presence that had lured him to a figurative death? Is that what he thought of her?

The party approached, and Louisa, now in the lead with Frederik, was laughing vivaciously.

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**A/N: So, is the explanation of the Siren new info, or did you see it coming? May I have your input in the form of a review, please?**

**Nonny: Your thoughts on the story were very helpful. Yes, Raoul is taking the place of 'William Walter Elliot, Esq.'" I really wanted to keep Cousin Elliot's name, but then marrying one's cousin is not as acceptable nowadays. My other reason for going with 'Raoul de Chagny' will manifest itself in later chapters. Thanks for giving my little fic a chance. I hope it continues to intrigue, and that you will continue to review!**

**Randomisation: I'm thrilled, and I will!!**

**Ana-Misa: Thanks for your take on Louisa! Reading **_**Persuasion**_**, I got the impression that she knew exactly where the walk would lead: the Hayters' Winthrop. So, I tried to mimic that. Frederik's motives? I hope chap 18 shed a little light on what he admires about Louisa. …Anne's time to shine is just around the bend.**


	20. Under the Opera House

**A/N: This chapter is being posted earlier than intended for one reason alone: my most devoted reviewer, followthestory, needs it. For you, followthestory:**

Chapter 20 – Under the Opera House

"Are you feeling unwell, Anne?" Louisa asked, as the party walked toward her.

"Yes, you are so pale," agreed Henrietta.

"I am fine; just tired."

Frederik turned to look at the couple lagging behind them. Charles was speaking quietly, but very gravely to his wife. Anne felt quite embarrassed for her sister.

"Would you like us to take you home, Anne?" he proposed.

Immediately the woman refused the offer. "No, I will only keep you from your plans."

"That's silly," stated Louisa, "We can just as easily drop you off as not."

"Do let us take you home," insisted Frederik.

To her relief, Mary was now heading for the car. With a pained expression, Anne shook her head. "I think I would do better to accompany Mary and Charles home."

The older sister did not speak as she placed herself in the backseat of the vehicle.

"It would've been better had I taken the carriage with you." The younger sister sniffed. "Charles thinks that I created the rift between Charles Hayter and Henrietta. I'm sure I did not. It is very unfair of him." Mary stared out the window sullenly, and watched as Charles Hayter shook hands with her husband.

The ride home was very quiet. Neither Mary nor Charles spoke a word. Anne, feeling very exhausted, was rather relieved. They entered the house to find that Jenny had not been able to get the boys to take their naps. Charlie was running up the stairs from the basement when Mary, frustrated, broke down into tears. She ran up to her room.

Charles looked down at his son. "Go to bed immediately," he stated, firmly. The boy stopped running and began to trudge up the stairs with Jenny following.

"Where is Walter?" asked Anne.

"He is still in the playroom," answered the nanny as she ascended. Jenny's hair was askew, and she looked completely fatigued by the exertions of taking care of the Musgrove boys.

Anne went down to the basement to gather up the two-year-old for his nap. The boy was hiding under the couch cushions. His little toes were hanging out from under the pillows.

"Now, where could he be?" she asked the room in general. "Walter…Wal-ter…" she said in a sing-song way. The bare walls of the basement reflected her voice. The reverberation reminded her of the first time Erik had taken her down to his home.

"_This way," he whispered. He led her through the doorway on the other side of the piano room. In his hands, he held the two lamps: the only light. He gathered up the cords and electrical strip as he moved through the door into the next room. Christine could see that his face was hidden by the mask before the illumination went out. All was darkness._

_She could hear footsteps treading down the stairway from the hidden doorway in the chapel above. "Who's in here?" the old man's voice called. "Come, come now. I know you're here." Christine could hear a grating noise beside her._

_Erik grabbed her hand and led her through what she had seen to be a wall before the lights had gone out. The grating noise was heard again as the wall slid back into place. "Stay right here," he instructed in a whisper, and she felt him pass beside her in the blackness._

_She waited, and soon she saw a small beacon of light from below. As her eyes adjusted, she discovered that she was standing before a large framework of metal joists and beams interlocking across a vast expanse of room. She surmised it was directly beneath the opera hall itself. The network of steel appeared to be holding up the entire floor above. For, as she looked through the overlapping slats of metal, she could find no ending to them. They seemed to go on and on around her, disappearing into complete darkness. A few paces forward, and the floor opened below her into a series of wooden steps. The intricate series of shining steel around her was like a uniquely designed roof for the room below._

_She saw the masked face of Erik as he reached out his hand to help her down the steps. Once she made her way into the room, he raised a wooden plank and closed the room off from the area above._

"_I didn't know that this was down here," she said, still whispering. She was standing in an enclosed space. Bare wooden walls jutted at odd angles around her. She saw no other exit than the hole above from which she had entered._

"_We can talk now," Erik answered her in a normal tone of voice. "I've double-boarded this area." He pushed a wall before him that gave way enough for one person to fit through. Christine could see a narrow door beyond it, which he opened. She followed him inside another jaggedly-shaped room that was made up like a living area. There were lamps in every odd nook and corner, and even curtains were hung though there were no windows. She waited as he went back through the door and secured the wall in position with deadbolts._

"_My father helped build the metal structure around us. Not many know it's here. It is a reinforcement to keep the hall from caving in. He was an architect specializing in the renovation of historical buildings. He oversaw its construction about ten years ago. He made the rooms, too." Frederik gestured above to the place where she had been practicing. "There was supposed to be an access door there, but I made it into a wall. Fortunately, no nosey trustees have needed to enter here since I've inhabited it. They have ample proof that it gets inspected yearly. I see to that. And since this old building is hardly ever in need of repair…" His voice took on a significant tone, which told her who was keeping the structure in good condition. "I've been able to have it all to myself in most cases."_

_Christine looked to the floor and added, "Until I started practicing in the back room."_

"_Yes, well. As you see, I've forgiven you for that." His teasing tone was awarded with a slight laugh from his protégé. _

_There was a tense moment of silence, due to Christine's feelings rather than Frederik's efforts to be a good host. From the moment the man had bolted the door, she had felt extremely alarmed. She told herself that intuitively she knew the man. He was no criminal! But how could she be certain? Perhaps he wore the mask so that he could not be identified. _

_Frederik continued. "My sister comes here occasionally. Do you know Sophia Giry?"_

"_Giry? I know of little Giry..."_

_His head nodded. "Meg's my niece. Brilliant, isn't she? They weren't going to accept her at first. It still surprises me; the trustees don't know talent when it hits them over the head with a mallet." He sounded annoyed and began to pace. "They complained about the structural design to my father, and, in the end, they never paid him but a pittance for this work." Frederik lifted his hands as though the whole of the ceiling was being carried in them. It reminded the girl sitting before him that he was taller and stronger than she._

_Discomfited, she looked at her watch. "I really should be-oh!" Her class was almost over. "I didn't know it was so late. I really must go." She got up out of the chair._

"_And I was so hoping you would stay for tea." He bowed and held his head in such a way that made Christine laugh once more. He gestured toward another room; the kitchen, she supposed._

"_No, I really can't today. Perhaps another time?"_

"_Yes, perhaps." He did not seem convinced. She did not feel convinced that her own words were truthful. There was something too wrong about being in this odd house of his. It made her uneasy. _

"_We will go out this way." He directed her through two long, narrow rooms toward the center of the opera building. One of the rooms was filled with different sizes of cases for instruments; the violin was resting against a chair. "Can you play all of these?" she asked._

"_It's what I do most of the day. I'm afraid I don't have the internet down here." She giggled nervously, unsure of whether she should express sympathy instead. His home made her understand how different he was than she. While she, the wealthy daughter of a famous violinist, lived her life in the public's eye, he hid in the belly of an ancient music hall, ever protecting himself from view. At that moment she felt she could never truly understand him. _

_He moved between two panels of walls and hunched over. The ceiling was much lower, and the small hallway ended at a door. He opened it to her, and she found herself out on what looked to her to be a cement rock. He switched on a small flashlight from his pocket and told her, "You will need to climb up onto the top of the roof. I'll help you." He went before her and took her hand as they climbed a slope of the cement onto the low-ceiled structure they had just exited. Then they came to the actual height of the rooms they had left below, and she turned to look behind her. The cement, from this height, was like a dormant, grey sea dragon. "What is that?" Anne asked. It looked so out-of-place in the organized design around her._

"_That is where the builders got even with the trustees," he explained. "The cement mixture was rejected, and the builders were legally bound to create a more superior mixture, though they knew they would not get the payment promised them. So, they poured the rejected compound here." As he stated the last sentence, Christine felt his hands go around her waist to lift her to the next level. She quickly crawled across the boards to make room for him to hoist himself up. He put the flashlight down on the platform and lifted his tall frame onto it. The flashlight rolled slightly and shed its light on his person. His arms were extended past his sleeves, and she saw white lines across the wrists and forearms surrounding deep punctures. They looked like red, irritated dents in his flesh. She felt something in her throat drop to her stomach as his mask looked in her direction, catching her gaze. He pulled the sleeves back into place._

"_Sometimes I imagine I'm in a great ship," he continued, ignoring what had just occurred, "in the middle of a vast sea." He had picked up the flashlight and pointed its light so that it reflected off the beams. The dark, gleaming steel gave the impression of sparkling water._

"_And that is like the sea monster," she said, pointing to the lumpy cement below._

_He didn't answer her. "Now we go this way." He led her a few paces, as though they were tracing the steps they had taken below. Then he took a different route, away from the chapel area and toward the stage of the opera hall._

"_Here is where the floor beneath us ends," he stated, after they had walked for some while. He turned back and looked at her in the darkness. "Come here." She stood beside him and looked over into the darkness. Across a small expanse, she could make out wooden boards projecting from the original wall of the building and a series of steps beyond. Above the platform, on which the two escapees stood, were three metal braces that joined to the wall across the way._

"_Hold on to this brace, and walk across this one," he instructed. His voice was low, and he spoke quietly into her ear. She became aware of how close she was to the man. "I'll be right behind you," he encouraged, and she felt her elbow graze his shirt. The surprise of it made her move quickly. She stepped onto the beam. The drop below was only the depth of twelve feet or so, but in the darkened environment it seemed much further. She crossed and found herself standing on the wooden ledge. "Now, follow it until you come to the opening in the wall." She followed his directions and waited for him in the alcove. He told her, "I will go in front of you to the first story." He led her back out along the ledge and took the wooden steps two at a time. She followed after, and he opened a plank in the wall through which she passed. Now she was in a narrow space and could see light through the panels of the walls. Continuing to follow her guide, she walked down a narrow hallway of unfinished wood for a few feet before peeking through an opening in the panels. She espied the music room where she had practiced. She could see the mirror and the doorway from where she stood. So, he had seen her. She felt embarrassed but did not have time to reflect on it as she hurried to catch up with him. He was passing between the studs of the walls swiftly. Finally they came to a door, and Erik put a key into the keyhole. The door opened toward her, and he let her pass into the electrical room. "Goodbye, Christine." He did not wait for a response, but closed the door. There was no knob or sign that there was a door on her side of the wall, only peeling paint and wires._

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**followthestory: Your analysis of Frederik's motivations are good. I'm not going to comment on whether they are all correct. You have my apologies that this chapter does not give answers to the questions you have put forward. They will all be disclosed, but it is not time yet. Will you accept this chapter, a humble token, for making you endure such suspense?**

**Randomisation: Thanks!**


	21. Meeting Joe

Chapter 21 – Meeting Joe

_She left the electrical room and walked out into the hallway, making her way into the opera hall. The backdoors were emergency exits. As she crossed the vast room, she heard someone in the entryway. "Who's there?" called the man's voice again as he opened the entrance doors to the old hall. "You there, what are you doing?"_

"_I was practicing. Is something wrong?"_

"_No, I - Where were you practicing?" The man eyed her suspiciously. His grey hair hung around his ears and flipped out, giving him an unkempt appearance. She guessed he had to be in his seventies. He carried a karabiner hook of keys that jingled on his belt loop as he walked towards her._

"_I like to sing in the second music room on the right, why?"_

"_Because I looked there earlier, and no one was in there!" He gave a triumphant look and glared at her. She backed away, looking incredulously at him. "Well, I can't tell you why you didn't see me. I've been in there a hundred times." She opened a door out of the auditorium, and he followed behind her._

"_Where are you going?"_

"_To class."_

"_What's your name?" he queried again, still on her heels._

_She reached the front doors and turned and looked at him. "Why? May I ask yours?"_

"_Certainly, it's Joe. Joe Buquet."_

Anne laid a fussy Walter onto his bed and left the door slightly ajar. As she crept down the hall, she thought of how Erik had talked of his home as a ship. And now she knew that to him, she had been the siren of the craft he commandeered. Yet, she had truly loved him; she had told him so in her letter. What had her words been?

"_I want you to try to pull yourself from that dark place and come to me."_

"Come to me" had been the very words she had used! And he had made them the lyrics to his song, a song meant for her to sing. Is that what he thought of her after the letter she had written telling him of her earnest love? He did not love her; he despised her! He detested her enough to view her words as a means to mock and flaunt her feelings publicly. The last remnants of hope she had not known to be buried deep within her, which had been revived by his reintroduction into her life, were finally destroyed.

The turmoil of emotions within her made her feel suffocated. She had to get out of the house. She walked out the patio door and breathed in the air. She could hardly take it in without choking with sobs. It was too painful; why had she allowed the hope to grow within and not checked it? While she had hidden her face from him and tried to mask every emotion that passed over her features in his presence, she had wanted to look on him to know what he was feeling and thinking. Why? It was so obvious now: she had been looking for some sign that he might harbor a small flame of love for her still.

The Siren's song had awakened the hope. In town, the man's gentle regard of her when she had been fatigued had been a morsel she had savored with a desperate hunger. And yet, his words to Louisa behind the hedge had told her of his resentment. The truth had been right before her, and she had refused to believe it.

She did not notice the deepening of the blue sky above her; dusk had fallen. The dim moon was a crescent between a small patch of gray clouds. The twinkling of a handful of stars could be seen peeping through the canopy. The air around her was calm and warm. Yet, the thin girl wrapped her arms around her as though protecting herself from the cold.

So, he felt that way about her. He truly hated her and scorned her love. What effect should it have? A few weeks ago it might have crushed her, but not now. It hurt terribly, but she would not delude herself that she could not live her life or still find happiness, as she had once done. She would go on, and some day she would wake to find it was not as excruciating in its touch upon her memory. She would find the strength to smile and love again. No. Not love again. That would be too much to consider.

"Why of course you should go! And what a lovely thing for them to offer after how you've helped them," Valeria Russell exclaimed.

Anne was trying to find some way out of the Florida trip and thought that applying to Valeria for some excuse might be her best course. The woman hesitated in her reply when her godmother simply approved the idea.

"And they are taking Louisa and Henrietta, too, you say? So, you will not be alone. That is good."

Anne did not divulge whose offer the trip really was. She could not bring herself to tell her godmother, especially after her realization of Frederik's disposition toward her. He did not calculate into the equation at all. There was no point in suggesting that he did; for Valeria Russell would definitely view his involvement as though it mattered.

"But I won't deny it is disappointing news for me. I intend to arrive home the day after you plan to leave."

"It will be for a week, only."

"I know."

"I will be back the next Tuesday."

"Yes, and then we can travel back together. Did I tell you I am renting a small suite here? I am quite settled; I just need a few odds and ends to make my place feel more like home. Your father is settling in nicely, too. Elizabeth had her housewarming party for him last night. There were so many guests, and Elliot and your sister have been invited to too many performances to name. Everyone wants to be able to say, 'The Great Elliot was at my debut'." Mrs. Russell laughed and sighed. There was a sense of pride intermingled with warmth in her voice for her friend, Walter Elliot.

"You are really so good to us, Leri. Thank you for watching after Dad."

"Well, I wasn't able to convince Penelope Clay to fly back with me. I knew it was impossible, but I did try."

"I'm surprised you had the nerve," Anne laughed into the phone.

"I am surely not mistaken in my judgment of her, Anne. She is very conniving. I think she is truly set on capturing your father."

"'Capturing him', huh? Oh, Leri, I know I shouldn't laugh, but your words-"

"But really, I am serious. I am afraid for Elliot. I am so grateful to your cousin, Raoul. He visits them often, and his presence steers the conversation away from Penelope's constant influence."

"Do you think that I should just fly to New York instead of making the trip to Florida? That way you won't have to worry about my father and Penelope. I would gladly-"

"No, no! Absolutely not! You enjoy a little vacation."

"But-"

"No, now you are not going to deny yourself this. You deserve it, Anne…and you need it. And, if you don't listen to me, I'll be sure to call Mary and get her to make you go." At this, Anne immediately quit the argument. She did not want Valeria calling Mary and conceiving of the true state of matters regarding the excursion.

"Very well, Leri. I will go."

Anne could hear Valeria clicking her tongue through the earpiece. "Listening to you, you'd think it was a punishment to have to go on vacation. Just relax and enjoy it, can't you?"

"Yes, I'll try."

Anne hung up the phone and sighed. To Florida she must go.

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**A/N: Entré Joseph Buquet. Anyone remember what happens to him in POTO? (Wide-eyed, but grinning evilly.)**

**Ana-Misa: Ah, the Siren of the Laconia! She is fated, but it was brought on by her own volition. A love spurned is a disastrous downfall for some, is it not? And, the musical is not an opera. The only operatic elements are tied to the Siren's Song. I point this out because it is somewhat important to the storyline.**

**followthestory: Granted, my reference is from the wrong book, but I feel somewhat like Mr. Darcy when Elizabeth says to him, "…One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together…" But, I promise you, Anne and Frederik will communicate!**

**full0fgrace: I was wary about using the term "siren." It has so many connotations today. Thank you for showing me that you got the gist. Whew!**

**Randomisation: You're 1derful for reviewing!**


	22. The Flight to Florida

Chapter 22

Anne awoke to the rather unmelodious shrieks of two-year-old Walter charging into her room, jumping on her bed, and, consequently, her person. "Teekle, Teekle, Nan!" he announced, as he tried to tickle her. Although still in some shock at this abrupt awakening, she could not help but emit a few giggles at little Walter's attempts at "tickling."

It took her a moment to come to the realization that this was the day she would be flying out to Florida with Mary and Charles. She could not help but squeeze Walter extra tightly at the thought of not being with him again for sometime. She intended to stay for only a week in Florida, though Mary and Louisa planned to stay for two. Then, upon her return to California, it would be necessary to leave for New York shortly thereafter. Valeria had informed her that she would see that Anne's apartment would be tidied enough that the woman could reside there once more.

"Charlie, do not put your eggs in the grooves of the table," instructed Mary, in frustration. She had been packing Charles and her things all morning.

Mary looked up as Anne walked in the room. "Good morning, dearest! I can hardly believe it: two weeks in Florida! You really ought to consider staying for the second week as well." When Anne did not respond, Mary asked her, "Are you all packed then?"

"Oh, yes. Can I help you with anything?"

"Have you seen Walter?"

"Yes, he just went down to the playroom."

"That child! He got out of his seat and hasn't eaten anything of significance."

"Walter!" she belted out.

"I'll go get him, Mary."

When Anne returned with Walter, her sister was on the phone. She hung up and looked at Anne anxiously. "I can't even reach her. She's not answering her phone."

"Who?"

"Jenny. What am I to do?"

Anne said nothing but put the toddler in his chair.

"I am going to call Mrs. Musgrove and ask if she will keep the boys. Truly, I'm in a desperate situation. I'm sure she will help."

Anne listened as Mary spoke with her mother-in-law. She was all smiles when she completed the call. "They will take the boys, and she is also going to call that friend of hers to see if she is available. Oh, Anne, I'm so excited!"

Anne ate her breakfast calmly. She did not feel so ecstatic about her vacation. She was dreading seeing Frederik again. She truly felt averse to being in the presence of the man. She would have to overcome that feeling. It was not in any way a good thing to harbor within her. Besides, how well would she do if Louisa should marry him? She would just stay out of his way during the trip. Surely there were enough things to do in St. Augustine that she could accomplish that much.

Anne watched as Mary boarded the jet liner ahead of her. She stepped onto the plane and into a small hallway. Following her sister, who was disposed to think every feature in need of critiquing, the woman entered into an area which was laid out like an oblong living room. Most of the seating was turned towards the center of the cabin, complete with tables, cabinets, overhead lighting, and television screens. A few individual seats were off to themselves, and Anne opted for one of them. She found that her seat swiveled so that she could join conversations in different portions of the room. Louisa sat near a window, and Henrietta took a seat opposite her. Frederik was hardly seen until sometime after the plane was aloft.

"I apologize for neglecting you. I had to take a call," he stated as he rejoined his guests. "What do you think?" He asked them, gesturing to the cabin they inhabited.

"It's wonderful. I'm so glad," responded Louisa. He smiled and sat down beside her.

"My father, as you know, has taken us on many trips by private plane, hasn't he, Anne?" Mary did not wait for her sister's remark. "This one is definitely meant for business." Her eyes traveled around the interior of the cabin as she pursed her lips.

"So, you have traveled on this jet before?" Anne smiled at Frederik, trying her best to make up for her sister's airs.

"Yes. For business only, though. I mean, this is business, too, but-" He made a slight acknowledgment to Mary while speaking, but rested his eyes on the woman seated beside him. "I think this will be a pleasure trip, as well." Louisa's expression plainly told the man how enamored she was with him.

Henrietta spoke then. "I told Mama that you would see that the pilot takes all precautions to keep us safe, so I suppose you still have a duty to see to in that regard." She smiled, but there was anxiety on her face. She did not like flying at the moment.

"Yes, I did make a promise to her. Perhaps you would have felt safer going by car?" Frederik looked at her concernedly.

"I would rather fall from the sky with the man I love than be in the safest vehicle with anyone else." Louisa announced, though she said it musingly as she stared out the window.

"Well, you'd only get to make that choice once, I dare say," the man laughed awkwardly. Still, Anne could tell by Frederik's tone that he was pleased by her loyalty. His voice took a more serious tenor as he said, "In truth, I know of a woman who lost her life while in transit to be with the man she loved."

The pity-filled responses of the Musgrove sisters caused him to continue. "She was the fiancée of my friend, Benwick."

"Benwick?"

"Yes, he lives with Harville, and you will meet him as well." Frederik was shaking his head to himself as he continued. "She was driving to meet Benwick at the end of a four-month stint we were contracted to do and was killed in a ghastly collision. It was the other driver's fault; he was drunk and ran headlong into her."

"Oh!" Louisa exclaimed. "That is so awful." Henrietta shuddered and asked, "Did she survive the crash? Did she…?"

"No, she was killed instantaneously. So, Benwick never had a chance to say goodbye."

"But…it would have been terrible had she clung to life and died an agonizing death," inserted Mary.

"Yes," Frederik stated abruptly and seemed as though he wished to end the subject. Then, looking to the young Henrietta, he stated gently, "The death of a loved one affects both the dying and those who must lose that individual. I know not whether the one who dies endures the pain of separation as keenly as the one who lives on."

"I am sorry for poor Benwick," Henrietta said.

Louisa turned to look at her sister. "We must try to be very kind to him."

Anne spoke. "While it is important to be kind; sometimes it helps if the sufferer is not overcome with sympathetic efforts." To Henrietta's confused expression, Anne added, "He may not wish to be condoled with by strangers."

"Oh, that is so. I remember when our mother passed. We received so many flowers and cards, and I don't know what all. It was very overwhelming. Do you remember, Anne?" Mary was looking expectantly at her sister.

"I do," Anne's words were quiet, and she looked down to the book she was holding in her lap. As the conversation turned to the merits of their destination, Anne turned away from them slightly and curled her legs underneath her. She lifted her book of Sir Walter Scott's works which she'd brought along to occupy her time. But her mind was not on the pages before her. She was remembering another who had lost the closest confidante on earth to him.

_Christine entered the chapel, furtively checking that Joe Buquet was not near. She quickly made her way to the door behind the drapery, but just as she believed that her mark had been attained, she tried the handle on the door. The door was locked; and though she tried it two times more, it did not budge._

_She stood at the door for a moment, unsure of what to do. She could not enter by the electrical room unless Erik was there to open it to her. Besides, she did not relish the thought of venturing across the metal beams again. Perhaps he did not wish to see her today. She could not deny her disappointment at having to forego her next lesson._

_As she placed her pack on the table in her favorite practice room, she owned that she was disappointed by not being able to see _him_. She felt a bond with him after visiting his home. Even in the short visit to his living quarters, she felt like she understood him more._

_He was not a phantom musician who played unearthly harmonies in hidden alcoves, then disappeared into the shadows. He was real and human. He had known loss and pain, passion, and the joy of being with one he loved who had loved him. The tenderness in Erik's voice as he had spoken of his mother had awakened a new feeling for him within her. She wanted to be near him, not just his music. She wanted to know more of his thoughts and dreams. He was very special, and he had opened his heart to her. That realization made her feel cherished, a feeling she had longed to know again._

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**full0fgrace: Yep, it was fast update. So, did you like the chapter?**

**Randomisation: Writing that flashback was too fun! Glad you enjoyed it.**

**Ana-Misa: Your analyses are so informative and even surprising at times! I try to use situations to convey the traits of the characters, and you pick up on so many of them. I know there are things that don't stick with J.A.'s storyline, but I do try to follow it in feeling. For example: back in Austen's time it was not appropriate for couples' spats to be aired in public. Yet, in **_**Persuasion **_**Anne perceives that Charles is "out of temper" with his wife on their way back from Winthrop. I look forward your reviews. Thank you.**

**followthestory: I really dislike having to wait for another fanfic chapter, too. I totally get that, and have lost interest in some good pieces because of it. You had good points, and I ended up going over some of the chapters to make sure there weren't places that deliberately ignored those little statements that displayed common politeness between the Anne and Frederik. And, I found some! So, thank you. I don't want you to undervalue your opinion with me; I'm already aware that I have a great reviewer in you.**


	23. The Expression in the Mirror

Chapter 23

_She had hardly begun to sing her new exercises – the ones he had taught her – when she knew he was nearby. He did not speak. He did not have to. She smiled into the mirror and heard his voice. "Christine, you should have waited for me." Christine, previously unaware of the effect his voice had on her, saw her expression in the mirror. It was a strange, inexplicable look that she saw staring back at her. It was the glowing feeling within that she glimpsed. Was it love? She could not say, nor describe the delightful emotion inside her with words. What was love supposed to feel like?_

_He saw her countenance change from elation to bewilderment. "What is wrong? Did you wish to continue your lessons here? It will be difficult-"_

"_No," she interrupted. "I will meet you below the chapel," she stated, her eyes shining again._

_She thought he might have left already. Then, hesitantly, he asked her, "Would you come to my rooms below today?"_

_She bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. "Yes," she whispered and did not wait for a response. She took her time, checking for a curious interloper who might be trailing her. But she saw none. She reached the door, knowing that Erik could not possibly have attained it yet. Still, she was impatient and tried it. It gave way to her. He had left it open. She quickly closed it and turned to take the steps. But there was no light to guide her today. She grabbed at the side pocket of her pack. The keys sang out into the blackness as she switched on her mini-flashlight and hurried down the steps to the room. The jumbled room was in the same state in which she had left it, but for one item. She scanned the room with her small light, just to make sure. The piano was missing._

_He must have moved it, but where? Surely he could not have maneuvered it down into the belly of the opera house? She heard the scraping of the panel in the next room and thought she would stop breathing so impatient was she to see Erik again. And yet, it had only been two days since their last meeting. Why did she feel this way?_

_She turned toward the doorway as he opened it; she smiled…at his mask. A small feeling of disappointment troubled her, but not visibly. He held out his hand, and she took it, staring up at him desiring to know if his expression was as welcoming as hers. Surely she would see him soon, and he would let her know what he hid behind that black screen._

_He led her through his living quarters to his music room and sat down at the piano. It was sitting in a corner as though it belonged there. "What, no offer of tea today?" She feigned shock, hinting at the delight he should be feeling that she was there in his abode with him again. For, he had not said a word to her since she had left the practice room behind the opera hall. Was he glad she was there? What was he feeling? She could not see what he felt unless he removed that irritating mask._

_He shook his head now. "Work. You must work if you are going to be ready."_

"_Be ready…" she assumed he was making a general statement._

"_For the end-of-the-year performance."_

_Well, of course. That should be her first goal. Everyone performed some part in the year-end show, exhibiting all their hard work. Last year, she had been in the church choir of _Faust_. But, there was something that told her he was not discussing her role in a choral part. She smiled again. Really, she could not keep from smiling at everything he said. Just being near him was making her euphorically giddy._

"_What role have you chosen for me to play?" she asked, half serious, half playful. For, she knew that nothing had been announced, as yet, about what opera would be presented this year._

"_Juliette."_

"_Juliette? As in-"_

"Roméo et Juliette_," he answered._

_Her heart felt like it had thudded to her stomach. "Oh, Erik. My voice isn't ready for that!"_

"_It will be, but we must practice." He gestured for her to come to him and handing her the score, began the introduction._

_The music in the opera_ _was familiar to her, but she had had no experience in singing the heroine's role. She felt the fear gather within her, but pushed it back. What did it matter if she did not know the part now? She would learn it. She stumbled through the first lines, and he stopped the music and explained it._

"_Try it like this." He played the accompaniment and sang a portion of the song to her in his octave._

_She tried again, and he continued to lead her through it. At one point he stopped playing and stated, "Sing it with me." Their voices mingled on the differing octaves for a few seconds, and then there was silence. Christine felt awestruck. She loved his voice. Was there a new and wonderful thing to learn about this man at every turn? He seemed to be stunned into silence as well, for he did not continue._

_Finally he looked up at her, and she could see his eyes vaguely through the shield over his face. Were they brown or were they yellow in color? She could not be sure, but she had truly looked into them now._

"_I've been contemplating whether to tell you this, but…"_

_She held her breath. So, many surprises had happened when she was near him._

"_It is time for class."_

_She couldn't help it. All the emotions had welled up in her. All the exuberance had to be released in a burst of laughter. He looked at her quietly, pondering her reaction, she knew. "I thought you hesitated to tell me something of more import," she explained._

"_What would that be?" There was a strange atmosphere in the room suddenly, and she felt as if she had touched on some truth. _

"_Oh, I don't know. It was just the way you said it." She shrugged and picked up her pack._

"_Christine, it is important that we work on this." She turned back to him, the serious expression returning to her face at his tone. "I think you should come for longer sessions. I don't think we can accomplish-"_

"_But I can't miss my class everyday."_

"_What about coming at a different time?"_

"_When?"_

"_Seven in the evening."_

"_But the opera house is closed then…and it will be dark." She could not unsay the words once they had left her lips, but she regretted them. Here she was complaining of the encumbrances of nighttime when his existence was spent in continual darkness._

"_I will come," she said, almost apologetically. "When-"_

"_Tonight," he specified. "We will begin tonight." _

_He helped her through the wall, and she spent the rest of the day in nervous anticipation of that night. She had to prepare herself for the extra load. It would be hard to complete her studies when so much time would be taken up with these new sessions, yet something inside her burned to practice. To perform in the role of Juliet would be fantastical! She knew enough of the opera to know that it would also be very challenging. But she could meet the challenges. Erik thought she could, and therefore, she believed it of herself as well._

_Nighttime cloaked the shadow of her figure as she pulled on the exit at the back of the building. He had instructed her to enter from the back exit nearest her music room; the chapel door would be open. The emergency door gave way to her, and she felt a sense of fear at her actions. Anne had never been one to rebel or deceive. It was not in her to go against school regulations and enter the opera building when it was locked. She assuaged these misgivings by reminding herself of her purpose. He would not keep her too late, surely!_

_Silently, she moved across the opera hall. It was always intimidating; its grandness and links to the past could not help but make it so. Yet, in her present frame of mind, the room took on otherworld proportions. She raced onward on the balls of her feet with the feeling that something was on her heels and drawing nearer with every noise she could not conceal. Yet, she met no one and nothing in the darkness._

_She closed the door of the chapel, switched on her flashlight, and made her way down the stairs with a relieved sigh. A light was beckoning to her from the room already. It was dim, but she saw it and followed its path. It waited at the hollow wall: a small electric lantern. She picked it up. Through the wall, she could hear him playing. The music was the one she likened to the gurgling laughter of a brook: her favorite melody. Every time she heard it, it made her spine tingle thrillingly. She pulled the panel back, stepped through, and returned it to its previous position. She looked below the small platform on which she stood. The panel in the flooring was removed, and she could see the steps and the warm, welcoming light beyond._

_He looked up from the black-and-white keys in his music room. "I wondered if you would come."_

"_Why wouldn't I?"_

_He did not respond, but left the room for a moment. Christine looked around her. The violin was out of its case and propped as though it was ready to be held again. She noticed how the room was built around the joists holding up the ground floor above them. Its asymmetrical shape gave places for the other instruments, still stored in their cases, to have niches. How had he attained all of these instruments? For that matter, how had he attained all the furnishings in his home? The draperies and the rugs had an antique look about them. They looked to be authentic, and she doubted he would have gathered them to furnish these rooms. She asked him when he returned._

"_They were my parents'," he answered shortly and sat down to the piano again. She warmed up for a short period and began to practice the song he had introduced to her earlier in the day. After an hour of practice, he stopped her._

"_You have sung enough today. We will work on this again tomorrow night."_

"_So, I should not continue to come between my classes."_

"_No. We will extend the length of the sessions as the performance gets closer. Now, I want to introduce you to the other songs you will be performing." He placed the sheets in her hands. She looked over the pages. There were so many! Could she ever learn so much and sing it with the feeling and understanding that the part would require?_

"_Some of these are duets and quartets. I will sing them with you so that you will know the harmonies and timing."_

_Hearing that all of the music before her encompassed__more than just Juliet's part, Christine felt relieved. But, what she looked forward to most was singing with Erik again. "You sing...almost better than you play," she told him, smiling up at him. He was closing the piano and putting away his music. He stood before her, but said nothing. Then she realized: the lesson was over. She was supposed to leave. Yet, she didn't want to go. There were so many questions she wished to ask._

"_Would you like that cup of tea now?" She heard the smile in his voice._

"_Yes!"_

_She sat in the room that mimicked a living room and sipped her hot tea. He took a seat opposite her. The way he folded his long, thin limbs as he placed himself in the seat reminded her of his emaciated form. He had to be unhappy. How he must yearn for a friend to talk to, at times!_

"_Do you get lonely?" she asked him. It was a very blunt question, and she almost regretted letting it escape her lips._

_He responded just as candidly, as though he had been waiting for the question. "Very."_

"_How long have you lived down here?"_

"_Almost four years."_

_She could not help but look stunned. Four years sequestered under a decaying building which had to be held up with steel beams. Four years without a window to see the world outside._

"_Do you ever go out?"_

"_Sometimes, but the mask is intimidating." She couldn't tell whether he was being facetious or serious._

"_Why don't you take it off when you go out, then?" He did not respond, but played with the handle of his tea cup. "Why don't you take it off now?" she asked quietly._

_He inhaled slowly and let out a sigh. "Do you remember when you likened the mound of cement out there to a sea monster?"_

_She nodded. He shook his head and pointed to his chest. "I am the monster of this ship, Christine."_

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**A/N: Okay, I think the next chapter is so very significant, that I am willing to update quickly…so, review, and tell me when you're ready for chap 24.**

**Ana-Misa: Which "head-strong" scene would that be? (Innocent eyes. Heh heh) JB's not a skirt-chaser this time; just cantankerous…and nosey. And, yeah, Anne's stay in Florida will be unforgettable.**

**Sweet Christabel: Please, please, watch the profanity. I hope this doesn't interfere with your exam performance! You're right: what the Phantom does with Buquet is a critical element of the overall understanding of LeRoux's "Erik." It might put a damper on the whole romantic atmosphere of my little story, eh? Thanks, and mirror stickers rock!!!**

**tater: Hello, my fantabulous beta!! Here we are at Chapter 23 (well, you're a bit further in) and you are still just as committed to keeping me on my toes. Thank you so much for your edits and your suggestions. I feel so lucky. I'm looking forward to Benwick.**

**followthestory: Did you noticed, though? Our suffering little heroine is holding her own now. It hurts, but she can see beyond it. Just a thought: so why doesn't he act more hostile toward her in person? Hmmm….**


	24. Erik's Story

**A/N: This is what Erik tells Anne after "I am the monster of this ship" in the last chapter. So, this is not really switching to an Erik POV, like some stories do.**

Chapter 24 – Erik's Story

"_My father, an affluent architect in Paris, designed and built my mother a beautiful home right outside the city before I was born. My brother and sister were born twelve and thirteen years earlier. My parents had not expected to have more children. Her pregnancy was riddled with complications, but my mother's condition was deemed stable enough for her to continue at home. In the fourth month, my mother fainted coming down the stairs. It was a steep fall, spanning almost the entire flight. My father rushed her to hospital, and they had to take me and do extensive surgery to save her. I was in a bad state, too. My head had been crushed, my lung punctured. There were other issues, but I will not bore you with them all."_

"_Suffice it to say, until I was two years old, I underwent a multiplicity of surgeries and procedures to survive. My mother told me later that I turned to her when I was two, and said, 'Please, no more hurts. No more hurts.' And it was then that she decided that the surgeries would stop. I was considered healthy and thriving, so she felt as though the other surgeries to repair my features were not as important. I sometimes wish that she had gone ahead, but I was such a little kid. I know it must have been hard for her."_

"_At that point, my parents decided to leave the city and rent a cottage further away from Paris. My dad commuted when it was necessary. There was no land to buy that would afford the privacy my mother wanted for me; there was only a portion of property with a cottage which the owner would not sell. My father rented it. My mother stayed with me and took care of me."_

"_Music became my first language, the one through which I learned to direct my emotions. My mother had a great love for opera__ especially. It was the one passion of her life, and she dearly missed being in Paris for the performances. But she would not leave me, and I couldn't leave the house without people noticing my deformity. At that time, it was never considered that I would wear a mask."_

"_I had trouble learning to speak due to the malformation of my lips. At first she hired specialized tutors to teach me, but they would not stay. Then she contacted speech experts and paid for personalized training through media. That's how I learned extensive vocal skills, including voice projection through ventriloquism." _

"_It will probably sound incredible, but I didn't think much about my appearance until I was about fourteen or fifteen. But even then I never determined that I needed to do anything about it. I was satisfied with my life. Anything I wanted, I had at my fingertips. I had no other friends but my mother, who was my confidante, and my father. Every so often, my brother would come to visit. Sophie didn't, but that is another story."_

"_Then, when I was seventeen, the landowner died and his agent took back the property. My father tried to pay more to keep renting the cottage, but his offers were not accepted. So, we moved back near the city, to the house my father had built for my mother before I was born. That is when I began wearing a mask. It was hard for me to get accustomed to it."_

"_We were only there two months before…it happened."_

"_It was my mother's birthday, and my father had reserved a box at the opera house for all of us to view the performance. He chose the box specifically for its location. It was box number five, I remember. It was somewhat in the shadows. I could hide behind the curtain and remove my mask to watch. I was thrilled; it was my first opera experience."_

"_That night, after the show, my father went to introduce my mother to a colleague of his on the ground floor. I waited in the box for them to return for me. I felt so angry with them for leaving me behind. I felt so outcast in that moment." Erik stopped and sighed. "For the longest time I blamed myself for what happened; as though my anger caused the horrible catastrophe."_

"_I was watching from behind the curtain as my mother and father talked and laughed below.__There was a musical sound, like the tinkling of sleigh bells, and a series of awful 'snaps' that reverberated around the auditorium as people were exiting the building. I watched as the expanse of a six-ton chandelier plunged straight down to where my parents were standing. The hall shook, and I stood there, immobile. I could not comprehend what had happened. Surely they had not been beneath that monstrous fixture! Looking at the sparkling fragments of what was left of the chandelier, I thought it looked as though nothing had been beneath it. Then I could make out the pant legs and the arms under the debris."_

"_I raced down the stairs and out into the foyer, screaming their names. I had not taken the time to pick up my mask as I left the box. I suppose that is why I got past the ushers who were pushing back the few people that had walked back into the hall. I must have looked to them like the angel of death coming to claim them." His laughter was cynical._

"_I didn't care whether the glass was gouging large holes into my arms. I just knew I had to lift the chandelier off my mother and father. But, no matter how I strained to remove it, it would not budge. There was blood all around me, and I didn't know some of it was my own. I can still see my mother's face, as I knelt beside her. Her dark hair was covered in tiny splinters of glass."_

"'_Erik. Don't. It's…it's all right,' she whispered as though comforting me from a horrible dream from which I had been roused."_

"_I was crying as she spoke. She reached up and touched my twisted cheek and that was all. I don't remember what happened after that. I think I had lost too much blood. The next thing I knew, I was in hospital."_

"_Hardly anyone came in to check on me. I found out later that my face scared the nurses. The doctor who treated me asked me the oddest questions at first about how I came to look the way I did. I hated it in that place. You wouldn't think that a two-year-old could have memories. Yet, they were all there and came back to me. There I was, a seventeen-year-old, and I was terrified. All I wanted was to leave. The surgeon tried to convince me to have reconstruction performed on my arms and face. I refused. My brother took me to live with him for two years after that. I stayed with him until he married. Laticia was always kind to me, but I knew I needed to leave."_

"_That was when Sophie invited me to stay with her, but my face was too gruesome for Meg. She had not seen her Uncle Erik before. For almost a year, Sophie wouldn't let me live in her house without my mask. I gave little Meg nightmares, and she only saw me once that I am aware. Even now she is afraid to come too near me." He shrugged. "I am a monster, I don't blame her." _

"_I wanted to be on my own at that point. I tried to find work. Believe it or not, I had an offer to travel with the circus; it was tempting. But then I happened upon the records of this place when I began packing the things of my father's to move. And I knew this was where I wanted to be. I had renovated the entryways in the first week and moved in the next."_

"_Sophie welcomed the idea. Since I had inherited the majority of my parent's wealth and possessions, I could support myself. I've taken care of Meg's tuition and my sister's living expenses, too. In exchange, Sophie brings me what I need to live on and keeps my whereabouts a secret. Even my brother is not privy to where I am; I thought it the best course of action should I be found out."_

"_I had no idea I would be here for this long, though."_

_Christine sat back in her chair staring transfixed at the man before her. The story – his life and past – had poured from his heart like the man had lifted the seal for only a peek and the pressure had forced the stopper to go flying from the vessel. His heart was so full of hurt, loneliness, and frustration with his lot._

_Christine wanted to step toward him, remove his mask, and touch the cheek upon which his mother had bestowed a dying caress. He had been through so much. Yet, his mind and heart were pleading for understanding, yearning to go back to the sequestered little world where he had found joy and love._

_Erik, it seemed, felt betrayed. He got up from the chair and announced, "Please, go now. I did not mean to tell you those things. If I am to instruct you, it would be best if you do not ask me personal questions from now on." He handed her the lantern._

_Christine understood his embarrassment, his need to protect himself from being left alone again. Yet, as she slid back the panel to walk through, her voice rang clearly, weaving in and out of the metal beams around the structure. "Perhaps I could be more than just a pupil; perhaps I could be your friend."_

_He did not answer, though she waited for his response before sliding the section of the wall back into place. She knew he had heard her words. He would think on them, and she would wait._

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**A/N: This was a hard chapter for me to write, emotionally speaking. I hope the portion about his childhood surgeries wasn't too flippant. I just couldn't handle anymore detail.**

**Ana-Misa: Yeah, I started laughing when I wrote Louisa's "falling from the sky" declaration. It was almost too modern for comparison with the original statement in **_**Persuasion**_**, "…I would rather be overturned by him than driven safely by anybody else." The book is a selection of Sir Walter Scott's writings. Further detail will be forthcoming. (Though, you can just as easily figure out Anne's preferences from the original story.) 'A'ole pilikia ko'u hoa aloha. (Hope that's right.)**

**gracereygoose: Thank you! I'm praying I get to finish the story, too. The last few chapters are still swimming around in my head waiting to be written down. And, I feel just as excited to write them as I did the first chapters. I think that's a good sign.**

**Randomisation: Thanks! So, I'm guessing "woah" meant something surprised you?**

**followthestory: I thought and thought about your question regarding Frederik's feelings. Certainly, they will become more apparent as each chapter unfolds. But, J.A.'s Frederick Wentworth is what I'm trying to imitate. He wasn't out to hurt Anne; just to show he had moved on. He believed she had done the same.**


	25. Home with the Harvilles

**A/N: The inn mentioned in this piece is not tied in any way to an existing bed and breakfast establishment. When reading Austen's description of the charm of Lyme, my limited experience could only correlate it with St. Augustine, that old and beautiful city. **

Chapter 25

Driving through the area toward the bed and breakfast that Harville and his wife ran, Anne looked out eagerly over the terrain.

"I hope they will not expect us to stay indoors, sitting around talking all day."

"Hmmm…" Charles responded and looked behind him at the cab that held Frederik and his sisters. Mary had insisted on reserving a driver and car for her husband and herself for the duration of the visit.

"Who?" he asked, after considering her words.

"Why, the Harvilles."

Charles laughed, mystified. "We will do what we please, Mary. It is our vacation. We can talk or not."

"Mmmm. Still it is very annoying to feel as though we should stand around and make small talk with strangers."

Her husband did not answer. Anne turned her head to the window once more, smiling to herself. If anyone was to importune others with garrulousness, it would be Mary.

"Oh, look, Charles! Isn't it lovely?" They had come to the shore at last, and just as it seemed that they would drive into the ocean, the chauffeur slowed and turned down a narrow lane.

Harville and his wife welcomed the visitors with a hospitality that was hardly expected. Once the guests had been shown to their rooms, they were invited into the family's portion of the house. It was very small, and the ceilings were low. The six guests crowded into the tiny living room with the family. Harville, with the assistance of his cane, continued to bring chairs from different rooms as he eagerly talked to them. He asked about their trip and if they had anything that needed attending.

"We bought the place six months ago. I didn't know how we would like it with our children still being young. But it is growing on us." The father patted his daughter's head as he spoke. She clung to her father's good leg shyly, but smiling. In the few minutes Anne had to observe Frederik's friend, she saw immediately how it was that Harville and he got on so well. The atmosphere in the tiny living quarters was such that no person could feel aught but welcomed. There was no false pretense behind the hospitality of the couple. Both husband and wife were delighted in the entertainment of their guests and made their home comfortable by their own unassuming warmth of manner.

"My friends," stated Frederik as he introduced each to Harville, who shook each hand sincerely.

"And you told me you had trouble making friends, Frederik."

"Oh, he's tried to play mysterious with me, but I won't let him," announced Louisa as she stood beside Frederik.

"Where is the Captain?" Frederik asked his friend, somewhat embarrassed by Louisa's forwardness.

"Ah, let me fetch him. He may not be in the mood for visitors, but we will see." Harville made his way haltingly out into the entry way of the house, returning shortly with a man somewhat younger than himself and Frederik.

Benwick entered the room and warmly shook hands with his newly-arrived friend. Frederik grabbed his shoulder in elation at seeing him. "Ah, Benwick! You and Harville are a sight for sore eyes. I feel as though I were back on the ship now."

"What fun were those days," recollected Benwick.

"Who is the Captain?" asked Louisa, confused. Frederik smiled at Benwick.

"May I introduce you to my friend, James Benwick, also known as the Captain."

"Are you a Captain then, Mr. Benwick?" Mary asked. The three musicians began to laugh.

"Not really," expressed Benwick with a sheepish expression. Even though he was smiling, there was something very sad in the look of his eyes.

"No, no. We just called him 'Captain,' because- Why did we call him 'Captain,' Harville?"

Harville laughed loudly. "I don't know. I thought you'd be the one to recall!"

Frederik was laughing now, and the rest of the party laughed also because they were in the presence of merry camaraderie.

"Please, won't you sit down?" asked Mrs. Harville. For, though chairs were present, the guests had not thought to do so before that moment.

The three friends talked for sometime regarding their time on the water, having entertained all sorts of interesting cruise-goers. Mrs. Harville called them to the table to enjoy a late evening repast spread upon the modest kitchen table. At times they sat in groups of two or three conversing, but by the end of the evening all had returned to listen to the stories of the three cruise musicians. The topic turned to practical jokes, and Harville asked, "Do you remember giving that pompous director a scare by pretending to have broken your nose?"

"And then, he took it off his face? Do you remember?" Benwick added, laughing.

Frederik, laughing and nodding, explained to the others, "I had just had extensive surgery on my face. I was scheduled to go in for more soon but had to wear a prosthetic nose during one of the tours. The director didn't know it was false. He was- wasn't he the one I had the run-in with-?"

Harville was nodding and continued the story, "So, Frederik decided to get even with the man and fake an accident. When his nose came off right in his hand, you should have seen the look on Braedon's face. It was priceless!"

Anne was amazed to hear Frederik speak of his surgeries in such an open manner. She now perceived that she had been mistaken about how he viewed himself. Within the circle of his friends, he was truly at ease. It was interesting to watch the three men as they reminisced. The dark-haired woman turned to look on Louisa to see how she took the story and found that she was smiling brightly. She and the rest of the party seemed very entertained by the antics of the friends.

Mary, having first looked around her with secret disdain at the less-than-pristine surroundings the Harvilles called home, now seemed quite delighted with their company. There was an easy openness in this home of the Harville's that Anne had never found in any home before. Mrs. Harville would turn her attention to the care of her three children at times. They quietly occupied themselves with games in a corner, coming to the table occasionally out of curiosity or for an affectionate pat on the head from their father.

It was very late before any of the guests contemplated retiring. Once they did, Mary whispered to Anne as they took the stairs, "Didn't I tell you? I hope they won't be expecting us to sit and chat with them every night."

Anne did not share her feelings. Something in the tranquility and harmony of the Harville family made Anne long to return, wishing that she might one day know of such unaffected sagacity of thought and conversation. For, though the Harvilles were not of her family's social sphere, Anne felt a true bond with these friends of Frederik's. Their intellect and spirit of conversation was quite similar to the woman's own thought and disposition as to make their society very enjoyable.

A late breakfast was eaten in the formal dining room of the renovated house. It was not the usual policy of the inn to serve late meals, but Harville saw to the comfort of his friend's party as each member came down independent of the rest. To the room joined a small sitting area which faced the side of the house. Anne, after walking a short distance in the early heat of the day, found the nook very welcoming. She sat down to read for a short while, when Mary entered the dining room. Mary replied to Harville's offer that she had no need for sustenance that morning. The woman looked about her, espying Anne in the corner quietly reading. "Anne, let's go and explore now, while they are all still asleep."

Anne put down her book somewhat disappointedly. The thought of walking the streets and pathways singly, unfettered by the presence of another, was a very appealing one. Yet, she had waited, unsure if some other outing was planned for which she might be needed. For, she could ascertain that Henrietta was without her sister for a companion when Frederik was about. Anne wished to ease that discomfort in the girl's position, if she could do so.

"What about Charles, dearest? Will you not want to wait for him?"

"Oh, he was not interested in walking. He will join us later. Are you ready to leave now?" Her desire to remove herself from any necessity requiring her to be company to her sisters-in-law during the visit was making Mary quite impatient to be gone.

"Very well," Anne assented. The sisters had journeyed out the front door when the excited voices of Henrietta and Louisa could be heard in the dining room. "Quickly," Mary whispered, hunching over. "I don't want them to see us. Let us go around to the back of the house."

Anne felt quite foolish making her way around the building in a clandestine fashion, but she followed her sister to a gate leading out of the inn's small yard.

"There," expressed Mary, triumphantly. "And isn't it a beautiful day for a stroll? But, before we get too far, I do want to get a coffee and some little snack. Do you think we could find a bakery serving quiche at this hour?" Anne felt a need to laugh aloud at her sister's antics. They had just left a haven where, she had no doubt, had Mary spoken her desire, her sister would have been presented with an entire carafe of coffee to take with her.

They walked with a purposeful gait for some time as Mary sought out an eatery that might meet her standards. Finally, they ended up in a small establishment serving an early lunch, for Mary could not continue until she had consumed some nutrition. She perused the menu as Anne waited beside the window which overlooked an enclosed courtyard. Through an opening in the wall, she could make out a group of men shaking hands on the threshold of some place of business. One of the men was Frederik Wentworth. Another man, to whom he was speaking, was fair-haired and held himself very superiorly. She did not recognize any of them, save Frederik. The meeting was just adjourning, and Anne could not help but be curious what business it was that the man might be attending to in the town. Could these men be the producers to which Frederik had alluded during the dinner at the Musgroves'? Why would they make a trip to Florida to discuss the song? It was all very mysterious to her.

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**Ana-Misa: I considered adding the "dun, dun, dun!" after the "monster of this ship" remark. So, that was cool when you got it. Yeah, I don't think you are the only one that was hoping to get to Florida before another flashback (and a big one). But, it just fit there. I have never been to a single live opera performance. I'm so uncultured… You don't remember the music?! And, I was hoping you'd be my R&J advisor. Oh, well.**

**full0fgrace: Okay, you're saddened by the flashback 'pause,' too. Bummer. I absolutely love musical theater. I've been surrounded by music all my "vapor" of a life. Truly, it is a language all its own.**

**followthestory: To what **_**Persuasion**_**-esque words of resentment do you refer? Knowing that will help me revise my story. Thanks for continuing to critique.**


	26. A Bit of a Stroll

**A/N: The eatery is not tied in any way to an existing establishment.**

Chapter 26

"I can't believe that places like this are still in business!" Mary murmured with a tempting pastry in hand. She tried to hurry her sister out of the eatery, leading her toward the gap in the wall, but Anne loathed the thought of being seen by Frederik. She immediately sat down at on a bench in the courtyard.

"Why don't you finish your lunch before we continue?"

"No. I will not stay here." She walked out into the narrow lane and immediately perceived Frederik as he began to walk away from the building unescorted.

"Why, Frederik, you are not with Louisa!" exclaimed Mary. "I thought you would be touring the town with her and her sister by now."

Frederik looked beyond the chattering woman to the one still sitting inside the stone enclosure. Anne got up and made her way to her sister's side as Mary suggested to the man, "Perhaps you would like to take a stroll with us?" The painful sensations Anne was enduring at the moment! She already felt embarrassed at having been viewed by him from his position in the lane. She feared her disinclination to greet him was uncalled for. The man had generously offered them the transportation to visit the city. But now, would she find herself touring the sights as though it were of no consequence that she walked beside a man who verily despised her person? And in the presence of her sister, who with every word secretly incensed the man? Surely not.

Frederik smiled at the two of them. His face was alight with jubilation, and it confused her. "I must get back to the inn. I'm sure Louisa is wondering what has happened to delay me." Anne almost sighed aloud, so great was her relief.

"But I shall take a short stroll with you down the lane, if that is agreeable to you both. I have just had a transaction of great importance occur, and I hardly know how to conceive of it at the moment." Mary nodded, but was eyeing her food with longing. Frederik did not notice; he was looking at Anne. The object of his gaze smiled back pleasantly, though in a constrained fashion. Inside, her heart was aflutter, and she was doing all within her power to quell the agitated feelings.

They turned and began to walk past the many buildings along the street. "I have bought the cottage were I resided as a child." The words were spoken as if the speaker could hardly believe the words and had to say them aloud to be sure it was true. Anne turned to look at the man, "Do you refer to the cottage your father rented...?"

"Yes, the very one! And a good portion of the land surrounding it." Frederik's eyes were alight with the wonder of his announcement. "It's mine now. Mine," he stated with quiet finality.

Pleased for him, she looked up at the man walking beside her. He had a faraway expression on his face, as though he had been whisked into a scene from his past. He was walking beside her, but hardly aware of what went on about him. And, for the first time, Anne was able to satisfy her curiosity about the countenance of Frederik Wentworth. His cheekbones and jaw line were very pronounced, she noticed, looking at his profile. The skin was taut across his features. It gave the viewer the impression of his being much younger than his years. His dark hair, ruffled by the lazy wind from the ocean, was kept short and straight around the hairline above his forehead. It grew thick and lay in wavy tufts at the back of his head. In the sunlight, she could perceive the small scars that surrounded his nose and eyes, and ended around his mouth. They were surreptitiously concealed by the natural creases on his face as he smiled happily to himself.

She would not call his face handsome, but he had an authoritative look about him which she found very appealing. His angular features, Anne thought, nicely complemented the character of the man. There was still that subtle power behind his presence that commanded respect. His gait still held the vibrancy that she remembered, as though he might lift his six-foot frame over a wall lithely at any moment. Yet, he was not as thin, dangerously thin, as she remembered.

"I suppose you are discussing some property in France," inserted Mary, whose clandestine attempts to satisfy her hunger had kept her quietly chewing before that juncture. "We have a cousin in France, you know. He owns extensive property. He is a vi…something." The words brought him out of his reverie, and he looked down at her.

"A vicomté, perhaps?" Anne noticed his scorn was thinly concealed.

"Oh, yes! That's what he is. Anyway, he has a title." Mary was looking at Frederik in a supercilious manner.

"I'm sorry to tell you, but a title doesn't hold much leverage in France anymore. It is merely for reasons of honor or claim to property that they are kept." His tone was polite, but Anne felt the mocking pleasure the man took in informing her sister of such news.

"Well, his property is extensive," she repeated. "Anne, you never met him." Mary turned her condescension to her sister. "He visited us when you were at the Academy. It was only a short visit, and I hardly remember him. In fact, I can't recall his name at the moment." She turned her attention back to Frederik. "He was on the continent and called to pay his respects to Dad, of course. You know, The Great Elliot is as much a favorite in Europe as he is here."

"His name is Raoul, I suppose," Anne offered, but immediately regretted it. Having heard about the man from Mrs. Russell, she had said the name to be of some benefit to her sister. Yet her words were injurious, giving the impression that she also harbored the affectations of Mary's snobbery.

"Yes, yes. I believe that was his name!" her younger sister replied, pleased.

Frederik ceased in his steps, stating abruptly, "Well, I do apologize for detaining you from your plans. I must get back to the inn now." As though remembering himself, he added, "You are very kind to let me walk with you." Anne hardly had time to scan his expression; he would not look at her. "Goodbye," he announced and turned to walk quickly in the opposite direction.

"Well, that was a short-lived stroll," Mary noted, but seemed satisfied to be able to eat her food without having to maintain the appearance of not eating before others. For Mary believed herself to exemplify that form of superior etiquette found only in the upper crust of society.

"Mmmm…" Mary stated, chewing. "Let's go this way."

Anne found herself weaving in and out of buildings. She saw plainly that Mary had no plan, but was biding her time. The older sister surmised that her sibling was waiting for the assured leave-taking of the Musgrove sisters before returning. It was trying to the meek woman to be part of this childish charade, but she endured it all the same. There was no point in angering Mary by refusing to go further. That would cause her sister to pout, and she did not relish the thought of having an additional member of the party around whom she would find it a strain to comport herself.

When Mary decided to return to the inn, Anne gratefully acknowledged that she was hoping to do the same; more to rest than to meet up with Charles. "Oh, but Anne," protested her sister, "You must go with us to the fort. It will be quite interesting."

"Yes, I am sure," Anne did not disagree as she followed her sister back to the residence.

Charles was reading the newspaper, having finished what looked to be a liberal amount of breakfast. He folded his paper as the two women entered the room.

"Are we off then?" he asked, with a chipper expression.

"I must rest," Anne stated, "but please don't let me inconvenience you. Go on without me."

While Anne knew that Mary would put up some resistance, she was surprised to find Charles do the same.

"Now, that is no way to take a vacation! Will you just stay in the room all day?" Her brother-in-law's concern was sincere, yet jestingly stated.

"No, I think I shall read for awhile until my headache dissipates."

"Well, you would do better to lie down. After all, reading can cause a headache to worsen," Mary spoke in a motherly tone.

"I will be fine. I just need to rest."

"I do so worry about you," Mary continued as Charles tried to shoo her out of the door. "You really should take better care of yourself."

Anne sat for a few minutes on a seat in the nook off of the dining room that afforded her a place away from view of any lodgers who might pass by the door. She had left her book of poetry on the windowsill and opened it to continue reading.

Soon someone entered, unaware that there was another in the room. He busied himself with removing the plates and other dishes from the dining room table. Anne looked up from her book and spoke, "Good afternoon, Captain."

He started and turned, giving the woman in the chair a slight smile.

"I did not mean to startle you."

He shook his head and explained, "I thought the party had gone from the house, but I see they have left one behind."

"No, no. I begged to stay and rest, for I have already been out for a stroll." Anne got up from her chair as he picked up the armload of dishes. "Can I help in anyway?"

He shook his head again. "You are a guest," he said quietly.

She sat back upon the seat to resume her reading, when he entered again to wipe off the table. "I must admit," she told him, "I am not good with sitting idly by while others work around me." She smiled sweetly, hoping for some task he might appoint to her.

"Oh, I'm very sorry. It did not occur to me that I might be interrupting your meditation. Please, excuse me."

He began to make his way out of the room, when Anne called to him, "Oh, no! I did not mean that at all. I can read anytime. I was truly hoping I might be of some assistance. You see, I have a headache, and while it might exacerbate the symptoms to be in the summer sun, I would wish to have some small occupation to take my mind off it."

Benwick looked around him as though he would wish to afford her her wish, but was at a loss as to what task to offer.

"It is of no consequence, though. Do not trouble yourself. I have my Scott, he will keep me company until the pangs lessen."

The Captain walked over to her as she held up the compilation of thought and meter. "You are fond of Sir Walter Scott's works?"

"Yes, I find many of his ballads enchanting."

"I do not care for his style, but his _Marmion_ is extraordinarily poignant."

"Are you familiar with _The Lady of the Lake_?"

"Yes. But I find the thoughts of the fate of mankind by Keats the quintessence of our existence."

Anne set her book down, and looked thoughtfully at the man as he took the chair beside her. She could tell that he was younger than she. His stature was shorter than average height. He held himself in a meditative pose, his shoulders hunched and his hand propped on the arm of the chair wherewith to set his chin. The whiskers on his face evinced that he took very few pains with his appearance. His hair was a disheveled mop of dark brown. Where his appearance gave the viewer the impression of his being like a little boy, his words gave a glimpse of the philosopher within.

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**A/N: It might be more plausible that Raoul would be a marquis or at least a count, since POTO has it that he has a brother to inherit. I prefer to keep his original title, though.**

**Ana-Misa: Whew! Glad chap 24 wasn't confusing. I chopped it to pieces so many times I couldn't tell where it began or ended. Yes, there are a lot of Phantom references that I don't highlight. It's so great to know you are catching them! In future, I might bring out the less conspicuous ones, if I can remember. (Oh! One is "Valeria" Russell. Christine's godmother was Mama Valerius.) Maybe you already knew that.**

**followthestory: Wow. Cool moment. The line about your having "to stop reading" to "take a deep breath" was so incredible. That is exactly how I felt when I first wrote it. It was just so…intense and liberating to write it out. Your analyses on why Frederik is acting like he is…well, it is difficult to know what his motives are because I am still keeping some important plot info from you. Sorry, but there it is.**


	27. Benwick Touches a Chord

**A/N: I do not own Keat's **_**To Sleep**_

Chapter 27

"Are you familiar with Milton?" she asked. A slow smile spread across his face.

"I see you think my choice morbid. You speak of Milton's poem, _On Time_, do you not?"

Anne nodded, with undisguised surprise at his quick discernment. The man beside her rested his neck against the back of the chair, folding his hands across his chest. "Ah, triumph over death is the theme, as I recall."

He gave her a sidelong glance, and she nodded again. "And I assume you are alluding to Keat's _When I have Fears that I May Cease to Be_?" she rejoined

"Oh, that is good as well, but my preference - the one I feel touches me most - is: _To Sleep._

"Please quote it. I cannot remember the words."

"…'_Then save me, or the passed day will shine_

_Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;_

_Save me from curious conscience, that still lords_

_Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;_

_Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards_,'"

Benwick stopped and bent his head to look down on the palms of his clasped hands and whispered,

"'_And seal the hushed casket of my soul.'_"

Anne was silent beside the troubled Captain. She did not know whether to change the subject or commiserate with him.

He looked up at her and smiled softly. "Poetry is a balm for the bleeding heart, you see."

She looked away from him. Instantaneously, his words had struck a chord she thought to be protected from anyone's reach. Unbeknownst to herself she had let down her guard with this man. And, in that one statement, he had innocently pricked her heart. For, he knew nothing of her predicament. Yet, incredibly enough, their two minds met walking on the same plane of thought.

Her reaction had been noticeable. "I am sorry," he stated. "I didn't know…"

"No, it's fine. And I have enjoyed this discussion. I would love to speak with you more. Perhaps at a later time?"

"Certainly. And again, I'm sorry."

She touched his hand in assurance of not being upset with him. It was all she could do. There was a lump in her throat as she took to her room.

"It is just this headache," she spoke to herself as she lay on the soft bed in her room in the cheery light of the mid-afternoon. Yet, to find someone who understood her emptiness, while in the relative proximity of one that her heart could not seem to be rid of, was a trial she had never envisioned; let alone, prepared to encounter.

Anne stayed in her room all the afternoon until a knock came upon her door. It was Mary.

"Anne!" she whispered loudly. "Are you awake?"

"Yes, Mary," she answered, for she had never slept.

"Good," she stated coming through the doorway. "Is your headache better? We are all going out for dinner. Charles has made reservations."

"I _am_ hungry," stated the suffering woman.

"Good," Mary repeated. "I think Benwick and Harville will be coming as well. Charles tried to persuade his wife, but she has the inn to tend to and, I fear, would have brought the children." The younger sister sighed, "That was merciful of her. I really didn't expect to take the Harville children along. Aren't they odd-acting? I'm sure if Charlie or Walter ever were as solemn as they, I'd take them to the doctor immediately!" She laughed at her own joke and went to the armoire. She opened it and looked over her sister's clothes. "Really, Anne, have you nothing but black and gray?"

Anne was combing the tangles from her hair. The dark tresses shone in the lamplight. The bright room had changed its attire to a somber gracefulness in the shades of the gloaming. "The blouse you are holding is navy, dearest."

"And you think that is much better? Too many dark colors, Anne. We must find you something while we're here." Anne could tell this was a ruse for Mary to bring up a shopping excursion at some later date. She did not respond. Mary had very different tastes from her own. Where the younger chose flashier ensembles, the older preferred a more classic mode of dress.

As they sat down to eat, Benwick was placed across from Anne near the end of the table. Mary did most of the ordering for everyone with the exception of Louisa and Frederik. For she was in her element. Or so she supposed.

"So, if I might ask, which do you prefer: _Marmion's_ "Clare" or _The Lady's _"Ellen?" The Captain spoke discreetly, as though he did not wish to offend her in bringing up the topic that had taken her to her room earlier that day.

"I suppose you mean for me to compare one as being superior to the other, but I choose to see their differing merits. While Clare had her loyalty, Ellen had her trusting nature."

"Hmmm… And what do you think of Byron's, _Giaour_?"

"I do not think on it at all. I'd much rather delight in the feelings of overcoming suffering than immerse myself completely in despair." Her words were stated too quickly, and she apologized thereafter. "I am sorry. It is just…I had a trying conversation about that poem recently. It did not end well."

"You did? When?"

Anne sighed and smiled sheepishly. "You see, I am part of an online society called The Poetry Analysis Machine."

"I knew it! The moment you said you'd had the conversation. You are 'lyriChristine' are you not?"

Anne's eyes were wide. Benwick was pointing to himself, "I am 'the-swords-point22.'"

"You! Why I never- do you remember that discussion we had on the forum?"

"It almost came to fists, did it not?" Benwick's excitement at the discovery captured the attention of the entire table.

"Hallo, there. What is the crisis, Captain?" asked Harville at the other end.

"She's 'lyriChristine!'" stated Benwick across the table. While none of the other diners had any knowledge of what the man referred to, Anne blushed furiously. The name 'Christine' announced so loudly made the woman cringe and look to the other who knew her as such. She felt stunned as Frederik's golden eyes caught her own and looked away quickly.

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**A/N: For your reading pleasure, I beg you not to be impatient in waiting for Louisa's fall. Trust me, you will be fully cognizant of the moment in the story when that is going to take place. Until then, please sit back and see where the story takes you. (Thanks to Tater for apprising me of this tendency.)**

**Ana-Misa: Your review was immensely entertaining! Lol! You are on the right track with all your conjectures, especially in being curious-er. ;o) Thanks for the heads-up on PotC. I'll be sure to hang around after the credits.**

**followthestory: 1) In **_**Persuasion**_** (chap 7), Mary says, "…he said, 'You were so altered he should not have known you again.'" In my story (chap 12), Mary says, "he stated he 'would not have known you had he passed you on the street' and that you were 'very changed.'" Doesn't that compare in principle, if not verbatim? 2) Are you wanting to know how Anne looks right now? And, yes, she doesn't speak to her fam very often. She will talk to Mrs. Russell soon, though. I'm beyond excited about introducing Raoul!! As is ever the case, your thoughts are appreciated and solicited.**


	28. Dinner and Gifts

Chapter 28 – Dinner and Gifts

The diners finished their repast. The meal was exquisite, consisting of delicacies of the sea. Anne found her conversation with Benwick as enjoyable as the cuisine. For, once the man had the insight to her identity online, he treated her as though he had breathed in the scent of a deeply fragrant rose. He could not seem to get enough, asking her insights on other works. Soon he was eliciting her opinion of other skilled writers of verse to study. She was quite overcome by his good opinion of her. Yet, she perceived his mind might be greatly affected by the lugubriousness of those less serene authors of verse. If not affected, then certainly his thinking had not benefited in the constant meditation of that vein of introspection.

"Might I suggest that you try a little more prose in your repertoire?" she ventured tentatively.

He sighed. "I don't think it will do any good. I am without hope that I will ever feel differently about life or the future." He said nothing for a moment, then added, "But what would you suggest?"

She gave a few of her favorites whose philosophies tended towards the betterment of man's character and the hope of a life after death. "Wait, let me get a pen."

She waited a moment as he wrote down her choices on a napkin. "Go on."

"There is only one left that I would add. And, of all the books ever written, I think it far superior."

He looked up at her, his eyes alight. "It is the Bible," she replied to his avid gaze.

He looked down to write and said not a word.

"Charles, see if Jean-Louis is available yet," commanded Mary, as the server returned to the table. She had the impression that a fine dining experience was not complete without a word with the chef. When her father had entered an establishment, every individual looked for some opportunity to distinguish himself or herself with the man. For when Walter Elliot gave a recommendation regarding restaurant or chef, the business would flourish. Mary was disposed to think she should bestow the same benefit, speaking of 'my father, The Great Elliot' with a nonchalant air.

"If I ever taste lobster again, it will be too soon," spoke a distressingly green Henrietta. The entire lobster lay hardly eaten upon her dish.

"You should have had the Mahi-Mahi. It was excellent. Would you like a taste, Frederik?" Louisa was leaning in toward him.

"I couldn't eat another bite. I think we should have stopped at three courses."

"Do you remember that Conch dish?" asked Harville of Frederik and the Captain.

"Oh, yes." Frederick told the rest of the party. "Once on the ship, the chef made an entrée, and somehow the kitchen staff misplaced it. They didn't find it until the next day. And we ate it. Oh, how I was sick!"

"You were sick! I thought I would perish in the night. That was an agony I will never forget."

"It didn't faze me much. But you two were sorry musicians for at least three days," interjected Benwick.

"That's right!" exclaimed Harville. "And that's where you came by the nickname. We said 'your constitution had to be superhuman. And, should the entire crew get sick, you'd have to command the ship'!"

Benwick looked embarrassed. Frederik was looking around Louisa at him. "You remembered all along, didn't you, man?"

"Ah, the modest Captain," said Harville, laughing.

"Speaking of modest, I have a modest gift to bestow on each of the fair ones who are in our company," spoke up Frederik. "As most of you know, I had a windfall of good fortune come to me today. I just want to share my felicity."

Anne looked to Louisa to see if she was privy to the gift-giving. She was smiling knowingly upon the women in anticipation. A server was carrying over a bag which he gave to Frederik. From it, the man took out three boxes and deposited them in front of Mary, Henrietta, and Anne.

Anne lifted the lid and uncovered a beautiful, sheer material of red. Embroidered throughout it were shimmering red roses. She pulled out the scarf to admire it. Though it was brilliant, it was tasteful.

"It is very nice. Thank you, Frederik," Mary spoke as she held up her scarf of buttercup. Her tone did not convey the same message. Then she turned to see Henrietta's pale pink one and Anne's crimson. "Oh, Anne, trade me. Red is a far better color on me."

"No," stated Louisa decidedly. "Frederik thought it best to give Anne the red." She came around the table to her side and arranged the scarf around her neck. "There," she said to Anne. Then, looking at Frederik, she nodded. "You were right. It is very becoming, is it not?" The last question was addressed to the whole party.

"Oh, Anne, it's pretty. And I love my pink. Thanks, Frederik." Henrietta was gently rubbing the embroidery with her fingertips when she looked up suddenly. "But what about you, Louisa? Did you get a scarf?"

Louisa lowered her eyelashes bashfully. "I've already received my gift from Frederik." She pulled back the thin sweater she was wearing to allow the women to admire her gift.

"Louisa, it is lovely!" stated Mary, reaching up to touch it. On Louisa's blouse clung a shining brooch in the shape of a silvery harp. But its frame was slightly positioned and bent to form a heart against the wearer's breast.

"Is it silver?" asked Louisa's sister.

"No, it is white gold," she responded.

"Oh! Well!" Mary exclaimed again, impressed.

"So, where's my present?" asked Charles as his wife tugged at his arm to admire his sister's pin. His facetious remark showed the pleasant frame of mind the entire party was experiencing.

"I'm sorry, Charles. I could not have purchased those without advice from your sister. But I would be honored if you would allow me to host you and the other men of our party in a golf expedition."

Charles was quite attentive, and it was determined that the men of the table would venture off to the green the morning after next. On the morrow, Frederik would need to meet with Harville regarding the business for which he had originally made the journey.

"Henrietta and I will tour the bridge in the morning," determined Louisa.

"Oh, that is a great plan," stated Mary. "Charles, Anne, and I will accompany you."

"Shall I go back with you?" Anne asked Henrietta as the sickly young woman situated herself in the seat of the car. Charles and Mary had offered their driver to take her back swiftly while they chose to make their way with the rest of the party returning on foot through the moonlit streets.

"No, thank you." The younger Musgrove sister looked overtired, and Anne did not push her. Harville was in conversation with Frederik and Louisa, who took the lead in the procession, while Anne and Benwick kept to the back. They walked in silence for a portion of time, away from the group before them.

"I have read parts of the Bible," Benwick stated softly into the night as they made their way along the paved expanse of the street.

The remark seemed to come from thin air, and it surprised Anne. "Have you?" she asked, not knowing where his thought process was leading.

"I just can not understand how there can be a God who allows such wretchedness to take place in this life." It was then that he told her the story of his departed love.

"She was twenty, and we were planning to be married that summer. She wanted us to marry six months earlier, but I was unsure. No…I was worried about money." His last word was spoken through gritted teeth.

"I calculated that if I took one more contract, it would give us a cushion with which to start our lives. I was the one that made us wait!" The anguish in his voice was like a string that had been plucked from the instrument of his heart.

"You shouldn't blame yourself."

"Harville has been very kind to me here. You know, Fanny was his sister. They were very close. He's told me too many times to count that she wouldn't like me to lock myself away like I do, but I can't do anything else. It's been four years now, and her loss is just as fresh to me. Don't think me inconsiderate, but…you have lost someone, haven't you?"

"Yes." She realized that she wasn't speaking of her mother. Her mind went directly to the look on Louisa's face as she had displayed Frederik's gift. Why should it hurt her? She was happy for Louisa and Frederik. She wanted them both to find love. Only she, too, wanted – oh, it did not benefit her to think on that now.

"Tell me, how do you equate the ideas that God would allow the misery with which we suffer and yet be a loving God?"

"I would think as you if I had no hope of an eternity." She turned to look at his profile in the dim light of the street lamps. "If there were no better place, where life triumphed over death, I would see no point in the suffering we endure here."

"I suppose you mean we are bettered through our suffering." He shook his head. "I can not agree. I feel no better for the pain which I have undergone; I feel no better for having lost Fanny."

Anne did not speak. She empathized with his plight. For, she had felt the same discouragement as he. Yet, time and maturity had taught her to see things differently. She thought of Frederik's analogy of the imperfect leaf. "Do you think that you have a purpose in life, Benwick?"

The 26-year-old man did not answer immediately but contemplated her words. "I sometimes feel that I don't, but…within me I have an insatiable need to know what is absolute and infallible. Why would I search instinctually for the true meaning of life, if that to which I aspire did not exist?"

Anne smiled at his words in the darkness. "Yes, I see what you mean," she stated simply.

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**Sweet Christabel: Interesting comparison! Yeah, I agree that having to study poetry just takes all the fun out of it. Thanks for the review; more POTO elements to come.**

**Ana-Misa: The name "Raoul" did not irritate Frederik, Anne's helpfulness in recalling the name was the turn-off. Excellent deduction regarding her knowledge of his features. That flashback is coming…her thoughts and all. "Swimmingly" is my lovely word for the day. Thank you!**

**Bertie Botts: The plot was too fun to resist. You're welcome! Thanks for the nice review!**


	29. Red Roses

Chapter 29 – Red Roses

When the party returned to the inn that evening, Frederik apologized to them for spoiling the fun and having to work all of the next day. "I hope Harville will come up with a real jewel of a way for me to get out of my predicament."

He turned to Harville, who was laughing. "As I told you on the 'phone, I think you've overestimated my talent, man."

"No, never! I am certain." Then, as though he had just recollected something of importance, Frederik stated quietly to his friend, "I need to speak with you just yet. May I-?"

"Oh, of course." Harville was at the aid of his guest of honor. He motioned to Frederik to follow him into his portion of the house. Frederik turned back to the party, in a general leave-taking. But Louisa would have none of it.

"Goodnight, Frederik," she spoke as she reached up on tip-toe and kissed his cheek. A look of bewilderment fleeted across his features, but he looked down at her kindly and replied, "Goodnight, Louisa."

If Anne could have removed her own longings from her heart, she would have viewed the scene with amusement. For, knowing Frederik as she did, she knew that he was not naturally inclined towards showing affection publicly. Whereas Louisa was very open with her feelings of regard for the man. Where a woman of less confidence might fear to tread, Louisa took Frederik's reserve in stride.

Anne made her way to her room to ready herself for bed. She thought upon the look on Louisa's face again. She could verily surmise that the eldest Musgrove sister believed herself in love. But was Frederik in love with her? Before this night, she did not believe she had seen any true spark of preference. But the gift of the brooch had changed that. He had given her a lovely emblem denoting his admiration for her.

A knock came upon the door, and quickly covering herself, she opened it. As she turned the bolt, it raced through her mind who she might find behind it. "Anne!" came the impatient whisper. Mary was waiting in the hallway. The older sister opened the door to the younger and allowed her entrance.

"I came to ask what you intend to wear tomorrow." The statement mystified Anne, but she answered truthfully. "I have not thought on it."

"Well, I intend to wear my yellow silk blouse. I tried to match it with the yellow scarf, and it looks hideous. I was wondering if I could borrow your red one." If Anne had known Mary's motive beforehand, it would not have surprised her more. It seemed rather cruel of her sister to steal into her room for such a reason, yet why should it ruffle her? Still, it did. Swiftly her mind ceased to consider this request, and Anne heard herself tell Mary. "I intend to wear the scarf tomorrow." She had not known why she said it, but the decision was solidified with Mary's next statement.

"Oh, Anne, your dark blouses will go with yellow as well as red. Here, I've already brought my scarf to exchange. Just for tomorrow, of course."

Anne did not hesitate. "No."

Mary looked as though her sister had slapped her face. "Why are you being so obstinate?"

The woman did not answer her, but the unbending expression on her countenance quelled Mary's persistence. "I think you are very selfish," the younger sister pouted, as she walked out and closed the door none too soundlessly.

Anne lay down lightly upon the bed with her robe still wrapped around her. Was she selfish for not allowing Mary to wear the scarf? What did it matter whether she wore the red or yellow? Louisa's words came floating back to her:

"_Frederik thought it best to give Anne the red."_

Frederik had chosen the red for her, especially. And the print on the scarf: roses. Red roses. She thought back to the time she had found the rose after her performance in _Romeo and Juliet_. But that had not been the first time he had given her a rose.

_Christine had been practicing for two weeks on the songs she would sing in the role of Juliet. She had believed Erik when he had told her about the opera, yet doubt had crept into her mind as she waited for the choice to be announced by the school. How could he be so sure that the trustees would approve his selection? And what kind of hold did he have over them anyhow? According to Erik, they had no knowledge of him._

_Still, she knew that the reason she practiced was two-fold. Should all the studying for the part of Juliet come to naught, she had another reason for her trysts with the astounding musician. Yet, she had never let on how her love for him had grown._

_He had scrupulously avoided any further reference in regard to his personal tragedies or his physical appearance. Yet, she would linger after the lesson was over and take tea with him. He had shown her the kitchen; a very small corner of another misshapen room which had a stove with a single burner, a small sink basin with running water, a mini-fridge, and a cabinet to house his few canned goods. There was a small lavatory off in a corner and a couple of large fans. Other than illumination and a rather curious ventilation system, there were no other utilities or amenities of which to speak._

_He told her how the builders had extended the electrical wiring in one portion underneath the opera hall when they were working, but that he had succeeded in bringing piping to the underground on his own. The furnishings from his parents' home were, in fact, antique. He did not wish to part with them; they held such charming memories for him. He spoke vaguely of the cottage where he had grown up outside Paris, and how he wished he could purchase it. The owner of the land chose not to sell it, though Erik had sent various offers over the years. _

_Sometimes she would ask him to play a different instrument after a session. He would not say her nay but would take up the piece and a lovely tune would soon commence. Anne had noted that there were no wind instruments among them. Sometimes he would stop and say, "You need your rest. I will see you again soon." And she would go as he bid her, rather saddened to have to leave. At other times he would say, "Christine, for you I would play the night into day again." To this, she would always smile and feel that perhaps he did have some particular affection for her. But then his mood would change again, and he would ask her to leave. _

_One evening he played the beginning of a new piece at the piano for her, and stopped before it had concluded. She asked him whether it was his own work, and he nodded. "I am in the midst of writing it. It will be part of an opera dedicated to my mother." It was that evening that she had found a rose waiting beside her tea saucer. It was a deep and velvety red, fragrant and just beyond the budding stage. He did not remark on the gift, only watched her silently as she held it an inch from her lips to drink in its scent. _

"_How pretty, Erik. How ever did you get it?" She almost crushed the stem, so tightly did she grasp it. For, her words were rash. She did not mean to bring to remembrance his limitations._

_Yet he answered easily. "Oh, didn't you know? I have my own garden." He motioned over his shoulder in a teasing vein._

_She smiled and lifted the blissfully-scented red petals to her face again._

"_I wish you could see how you look right now," he said seriously._

_She looked up at him, questioningly. His words caught her off-guard. Still, she found her voice and replied, "How do I look? Like a future world-class opera singer?" She laughed and hid her eyes from him. For she knew in her heart that the tone he had used expressed some sort of admiration. Yet, she would try not to think too much of it. She was not ready to see her unrevealed hope come to fruition, or worse, shattered._

"_Yes! That is it exactly. Christine, I see you as an acclaimed soprano tonight, with the light in your eyes and the crimson petals against your skin. You will soon try your genius on an unsuspecting world, and they will know what I know." The note of adoration had fled from his voice. He spoke the words as though he did so to inspire and encourage her. Yet, his remark about her eyes and skin kept her awake that night._

_Was it possible that his reference about the way she looked just slipped out, and he merely spoke less feelingly as a means to conceal the truth? Or had she misread him, being eager to read into his words an emotion for her that was not really there. She picked up the rose again as her head rested on her pillow and brought it to her nose once more. It was red. Surely he knew what red meant! But, then again, she did not know whether he had had a selection of colors from which to choose._

_He had given her a gift: a red rose. It was a simple gesture. It pleased her; why not leave it at that? There need be no underlying meaning behind the gift, no additional admission from him. She would let the feelings within her remain in the same stage, like the perfect bloom that rested against her cheek. She convinced herself that it was enough to have the rose, and that she truly desired nothing more._

A knock dispersed her reflections. Anne felt a small pool of agitation well up within her. The scarf was hers. In this she would be steadfast. It did not matter to her that her feelings might be irrational; this one last gift she meant to keep solely to herself. She would hold her ground all night if Mary chose to harangue her that long. She opened the door enough to peek out at the level of Mary's face.

She found herself staring at Frederik's shirt buttons.

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**A/N: This is my favorite cliffhanger, so far. (Muwahahahaha!)**

**Ana-Misa: The whole poetry society was one of the first ideas I had when I began writing this. You are so getting the feelings of Anne, aren't you? I just love your statements and questions. Who turned away first? I think it had to be a tie. No worries, I'm a 'pun'-ny person. (Ugh.)**


	30. A Granted Request

Chapter 30

She looked up at Frederik as she clutched her robe lapels to her neck. His expression showed extreme agitation with his situation.

"I am sorry to bother you. And I wouldn't if I thought – well – I was wondering if I might ask a favor of you tomorrow morning. I know you have made plans, but you see…" He words spilled forth in a confused jumble of protest and pleading. "Harville has not heard the vocals of the Siren's song before, and he thinks it would be beneficial if he did. I actually brought a recording with me, but then it doesn't do justice to the-"

"You want me to sing it tomorrow?" she asked. His ruffled manner had given her time to collect her thoughts.

"Yes. We will drive to the studio at 7, but once he has heard the song, you won't be detained further."

Anne smiled and spoke as though he should have known her answer. "I will be ready."

"Thank you, I-," He was shaking his head self-depreciatingly, "Thank you."

"Goodnight," she whispered. His grateful expression was disconcerting to her. She slowly closed the door and left her hand on the doorknob. For a twinkling, the thought lingered to open the door and ask him about the song. Why did he use the words, "come to me?" Or did he think of her as the siren? No, she couldn't ask those questions. It would bring up events which he did not wish to broach, she concluded. For, if he did, he would have spoken of them before now.

It was best that way, she decided, as she turned the bolt on her door and removed her robe. He was interested in another. It would only interfere with that in which Louisa's heart was involved. Absent-mindedly, she pulled the boxed scarf back out of her suitcase and lifted the lid. She loosed the filmy cloth from its folds and brought it around her neck. Walking toward the mirror, she looked at her appearance. It was silly, really, with her pastel blue, cotton pajamas; but something about her dark hair and eyes contrasted the red material so effectively. It made her plain features appealing and brought out the pink tinting of her pale cheeks and lips.

She _would_ wear it tomorrow. She told herself it was the scarf itself that convinced her. It was her color, and she had a desire to feel pretty again. Would he think anything of her choice? She doubted it. But, she readily admitted, he had good taste. He always had.

The morning light found her bathed and dressed. She had slept well, though she could hardly understand how. The flutter in her stomach had not ceased from the moment she had awakened. She knew she could sing the part; that was not the issue. She chose to ignore the whispering voice within telling her to admit the reason for her nervousness.

She went to the dining room, but found no one. It flashed through her mind that they had already gone, but looking at her watch she noted it was fifteen minutes before seven. Harville's door opened, and the host himself ushered her in. "I thought I heard your footsteps on the stair. Sit down and eat a bite before we are on our way." He motioned to the table at which Benwick and Mrs. Harville were seated. The aroma of the room invited her senses to partake.

Some movement in the adjoining room caught her attention. The youngest Harville child, too shy to sit with him, was standing beside a seated Frederick as the man read to the toddler quietly. It was a sweet picture, and Anne did not know how to conduct herself after seeing it. In this home there were so many offerings of gentle concern that she wished she knew in her own family. They had been lost with the passing of her mother. To see Frederik as part of that ideal made her feel as though this favor she had agreed to grant might be too much to ask of herself.

"Coffee?" Benwick asked, getting up to serve her.

"Yes, please." Anne situated herself so that Frederik was not directly in view. It made no difference. He was soon finished reading, and he and Harville took up a discussion that included the rest of the adults.

"I listened to the instrumental arrangement earlier this morning, Frederik. This _Siren's Song_ has a definite climactic approach, doesn't it?"

"Yes, and the performance will go flat if I don't keep that approach with the new arrangement."

Harville shook his head. "It seems odd to me that the producers would wish to change a score that the entire program relies upon."

"That is what I thought, but the producers were adamant that the song had to be reworked for a classical alto or recreated as an instrumental."

"Well, I still feel like I'd like to work on it with my equipment here." Frederik looked up as though he wanted to explain. "But you're right. We need the privacy," Harville continued.

Anne ate her eggs and toast quickly. She did not want the two musicians to feel that they must wait for her. "Mind if I accompany you?" Benwick asked when the three of them prepared to leave.

Harville looked to Frederik, who for a moment seemed undecided. "Oh, I'm sorry," Benwick added. "I don't want to be in the way."

"No, no…you won't be. Forgive me for my hesitation; my mind is on work already."

"The same old Frederik," commented Harville. "Ever lost in his music." The inn owner looked at Anne as he held the front door for her. "That poor girl." He turned toward the stairway, then back to her. His eyebrows were raised in a manner that hinted at the jest in his remark, yet his words held a modicum of truth. She gathered that Harville was speaking of Louisa's future relationship with Frederik; that she would always be vying with the man's first love: his music.

Benwick entered the room Harville and Frederik, now in conversation with the studio's engineer, inhabited. Anne was in a corner of the room waiting patiently, while listening to the discussion. The Captain took a place beside her. Harville was acquainting himself with the equipment. Anne felt relieved that she was not the only one feeling out of place. For Benwick, his arms crossed, looked down at her and inquired, "May I ask: what is your interest in all of this?"

"From what I gather, I am here to give a live rendition of the piece."

"Ah. So, Miss Elliot has other talents beyond poetry analysis."

His teasing manner brought Anne's eyes full upon the Captain's expression. She was surprised at his words. This man had seemed so morose the night before.

"I teach voice at a school of music in New York," she explained.

"Do you?" It was his turn to look surprised. "Well, I am looking forward to hearing you."

Anne laughed, "It isn't an audition, is it?"

"Anne," interrupted Frederik, "do we have your permission to record your vocals?"

"Yes, of course."

Frederik went back to his conversation with Harville, and Anne turned to look at Benwick. She noticed in the morning light from the opaque window beside him that he had shaved. His face seemed younger still. She could see he had taken pains to comb his hair.

"What are your plans after this?" Benwick asked.

"I had not thought about it. Perhaps I shall go back into the town and wander about on my own," she answered honesty.

"Would you mind company?" The question was stated lightly, but Anne detected the earnestness behind it. "I would be honored to give you a small tour of the city," he added persuasively. She fingered the scarf at her neck. She was pleased with Benwick's attentions. It felt nice to know someone was interested in her companionship.

"Yes. I would like that very much." She smiled at him, her fingertip still tracing the rose pattern in the scarf.

"I think we're ready," announced the composer, and he escorted Anne into the next room.

It had been many years since Anne had recorded a song. She had no longer needed to carry cds of her repertoire once she had stopped auditioning and begun teaching. The engineer directed her to the appropriate microphone, while Frederik handed her the score.

"Sing it just the way you did at the Musgroves'." He seemed content for a moment to leave the pages in her hands, but then he moved toward her again. "Only, on this part, make it very dramatic, very entrancing. And here, allow your voice to waver sympathetically. And…" He turned to the last portion of the song, "hold these last notes with the rippling technique. The way you did at your evalu-"

Anne raised her eyes to him instantly. She knew he was speaking of her year-end performance when she had graduated from the academy. He kept his eyes to the page, and would not look at her directly. Yet he stood there, waiting.

"You were there?" she asked huskily; for she could scarcely breathe in that moment.

"Of course," he stated simply, and signaled toward the window at Harville in the next room. Frederik exited, closing the door behind him.

Anne swallowed back her shock. Had he just said it, or had it been pure fancy? The year-end evaluation! He had been there even though she had not returned since the night of the debut of _Romeo & Juliet_. When was it she had given Sophie the note? It had been the day after her evaluation. So, he had not yet seen her note. Still, he had been there!

She couldn't think on that now. Mentally, she shook the thoughts away. She needed to push what had just happened out of her mind if she was going to sing the song. She arranged herself, adjusted the earphones, and tested the microphone for the recording. She acknowledged her readiness. The music that reached her ears through the headpiece was the full-blown orchestra. It sent that same euphoric chill over her to hear the light, trickling melody from the old opera house once more. Yet it was disguised enough that she could separate the beauty of the orchestral accompaniment from the simple piano tones she remembered. She had complete confidence that she could sing this song, but the persistent thoughts that kept trying to invade her mind, as she struggled to concentrate, made her hands tremble.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself as she used to do. The words raced to her mind instantly. His words:

"_When a performer sings, it is not a time to reflect on past mistakes or present insecurities. It is a time to focus on your audience and reach out to them."_

She left her anxiety behind her, lifted her chin, and sang. For, she knew how to reach her audience. This song was crafted to display the abilities of her voice. She felt it; she _knew_ it. All she had to do was cast her spell, just like the siren.

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**mums-the-word: Whoo hoo! You read **_**and**_** reviewed! I feel so loved. Yes, the carriage rides in the Santa Monica area are hired for occasions. (This is the area where I picture Dr. Musgrove's practice to be. I'm sure they need another good reconstructive surgeon there. lol) It was interesting that you thought of St. Augustine's carriages. Having never ridden on the carriage tour of St. Aug. myself, it did not occur to me that a reader might jump to that conclusion. Thanks!**

**Sweet Christabel: The brooch was not a great thing for Anne; it solidifies things a bit. Yes, I do enjoy writing Mary. But, what I really enjoy is the Anne/Frederik dialogue. I feel like I just sit back and jot down what they say; as though I'm actually listening in on their conversations. I'm beginning to work on the Raoul/Anne dialogue, and it is deliciously fun, too.**

**Ana-Misa: I'm so glad we are on the same page regarding bringing the Bible up as a means to help one who is grieving! Imo, it only made sense that Anne would suggest it. In Persuasion, J.A. wrote, "…on being requested to particularize, mentioned such works of our best moralists,…as calculated to rouse and fortify the mind by the highest precepts, and the strongest examples of moral and religious endurances." Plus, Jane Austen was a rector's daughter. You were right about the red roses.**


	31. A Difference of Opinion

**A/N: I do not own the **_**Bell Song**_** from **_**Lakme**_**. If you desire, search youtube w/ words "lakme Natalie Dessay bell song" to (re)acquaint yourself with the piece.**

Chapter 31 – A Difference of Opinion

"You may come back in," Frederik announced through the speaker, looking through the glass at her. She had finished the score and waited for more direction. Benwick had walked up beside Harville's chair; she wasn't sure at what point. His attention was on Harville. As she reentered the room, she could hear the song being replayed. They were checking to be certain the recording was complete. Benwick came around Harville and stated, "I have never heard a performance of that nature before."

Anne did not know how to take his comment. The last portion of the song, sung in the manner Frederik had directed, had been shaky for her. She hoped she had disguised it well. "Was it an acceptable rendition?" She automatically turned to Frederik. The song continued to play in the background. He was standing slightly away from the board, staring into the empty recording room.

"It was acceptable," he stated.

Harville looked up incredulously. "Acceptable? It was fantastic!" He turned to Anne and continued. "You conquered that entire piece superbly. I've never heard the like of it, either."

"Not so, Harville," argued Frederik. Then he looked at her. "You did not handle the technique properly at the close." He was admonishing her! She hardly knew how to take it. Part of her felt embarrassed for not keeping up her skill, for she had not practiced that particular form of delivery in years. The other part of her wished he'd look on her with that austere expression once more. A sense of nostalgic longing had washed over her when he'd spoken in that manner. Her hungry heart craved his concerned tone again, even if she could gain no better joy from it.

"You are insane, man! This woman's execution was unparalleled," Benwick spoke up. Anne could see that his face was flushed from his neck to his cheek as he contradicted his friend. "Are you listening to this?" He reached his hand towards the studio speaker as the song continued, her voice floating above the heads of the musicians like an alluring spirit.

Anne could not help but feel strangely out of place. She wrung her hands, as she was apt to do when a situation got tense. "She knows what I mean," her former instructor stated. Benwick looked as though he would speak again, but Frederik spoke directly to Anne. "I think that is all we will need from you. Eh, Harville?" Anne turned to look in Harville's direction. He had his face propped in his hand and was looking between Anne and the composer. His response was slow in coming, as though he could not react as quickly to Frederik's abrupt dismissal of the woman.

"Very well. I think I've got a sufficient picture of what I'm up against." He sighed heavily then.

"Shall we be on our way, Anne?" Benwick asked. His manner showed that he was thoroughly heated over the matter.

Harville arose from his chair and politely reached out his hand to the talented singer. "You have been a key factor in my understanding of this music." It was stated as though he was thanking her. Yet, he was perusing her face quizzically.

"Yes," Frederik added, "thank you for your work, Anne." He could not see his friend's look. He had walked away from her when the Captain had grown irate.

"Good day," was all that Anne said, as she allowed Benwick to lead her out of the room.

"I apologize for my friend's rudeness," stated the younger man, as they walked out into the Florida sunshine.

"It doesn't affect me, truly. He heard it a certain way in his head, and I didn't perform it that way."

"Honestly, Anne, I cannot possibly see how you could have performed it better. I'm ready to jump into the sea right now." He was grinning playfully, but the expression in his eyes was still serious. He opened his car door for her. She did not respond, only shook her head as she settled into the seat.

Frederik had always been very passionate about the way a piece should be performed, yet his manner to her had been too cold after she had reentered the room. She heard it in his dismissal. She was certain that he had betrayed himself in telling her of his being at her last performance before the examination judges.

_Christine made her way to class, as usual, passing one of the announcement boards. It was then that she saw the new posting. "Year-end Production Announcement" it read, but she did not walk up to read the trustees' choice. A fearful feeling was choking her, and she bent her head and went on to the lecture hall._

_She avoided the news most of the day, though it surprised her to find it was possible. Finally, she could ignore it no longer. Her vocal instructor pulled her aside after class to speak with her privately that afternoon. "Anne, I think you should consider trying for the part of Juliet."_

"_Juliet?" Christine asked, disbelieving._

"_Yes, I think your voice is perfect for it, and your improvement in the past few months has exceeded expectation. I have every intention of coaching you. And we should prepare for tryouts immediately. What times do you have available?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Well, think on it, and I'll discuss it with you tomorrow."_

_That night Christine stepped down into Erik's rooms with a look of starry-eyed wonderment on her countenance. "I suppose they announced the opera at last," concluded Frederik from behind the piano._

"_Not only that, but M. Poligny pulled me aside to ask me about auditioning for Juliet's role." She was smiling at him as though he should be surprised at her news._

"_Why is it so astonishing to you, Christine?" He looked up at her, his folded hands resting on the top of the piano. "You are becoming quite an accomplished singer, my dear."_

_He had never called her "my dear" before. She did not know how to react. Was he being condescending? Or was it possible that he felt that she was dear to him. She chose to hope it was the latter._

"_We will not be working on _Romeo & Juliet_ today." His words surprised her. She looked up from her bag where she had been busily retrieving her music. He was holding a pamphlet of sheets toward her. She took it and read the score._

_Immediately her eyes rested on the title, "_Ou va la jeune Hindoue?_"_ _Christine choked on her gasp. "And why am I singing the_ Bell Song_? Or rather, I should say, why am I attempting it? I-"_

"_You can sing it, Christine. You have no idea how well you can triumph with this song. I have been testing your voice for some time. We have extended the sessions, and your voice has become stronger, more acrobatic with each challenge you have encountered. You are ready, trust me."_

_She let out an audible sigh as he turned back to the piano. It arrested his movements. "I will not make you sing it," he said softly._

"_I just don't want to disappoint you in your expectation of me."_

"_This is not about what I want. It is about your career. If you wish to further it, you would do well to make it clear to your teachers and peers alike what you have achieved and to what you aspire." His words bewildered her._

"_Will I be singing this for them?"_

"_This will be your year-end evaluation song, if you wish it to be."_

_Realization dawned. "Ah, but why not sing-?"_

"_Every prima donna of the school chooses a song from her performance each year to use for evaluation; a very dull tradition, in my opinion. Since you have had the advantage of beginning your preparation for _Romeo & Juliet_ early, we can be concentrating on this new piece while you are being coached by your instructors for Juliet's part."_

_She felt slightly foolish for not having surmised the outcome of his scheme before that point. A slow smile spread across her face, and she nodded. "You are quite brilliant, Erik."_

"_I have an abundance of time on my hands to work out these little matters. I'm glad to see you are grateful for having such an attentive advisor, though."_

"_Both teacher and advisor…how can I not succeed?"_

"_Very easily, Christine. Don't get too conceited. Work!"_

_She sang the most worthless first rendition of the song. She was tottering under a torrential shower of tears when he stopped her. But he did not upbraid her as was his usual manner. He merely stopped and stated, "Now that you have had a taste of that, I think we will revert to a duet: _Ange Adorable_. Have you been practicing it?"_

"_Yes," Christine pulled out her music, feeling thoroughly disgusted with herself._

"_Christine." She turned to look at the man still sitting at the piano. "We were only testing the waters. Don't be discouraged. I promise you that under my guidance you will not only conquer it, but it will become one of your signature pieces."_

_His words, so comforting, assuaged her bruised ego. She looked upon him gratefully, lovingly even._

_He played a short introduction and sang the part of Romeo. She was sure of herself now in comparison to the uneasiness of her previous vocal trial that evening. She began and her voice met Erik's on the waves of vibration. Somewhere amidst the beauty of the musical tête à tête the words began to take on a deeper meaning. She voiced her love for her Romeo openly, heedlessly; her spirit moved by the moment._

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**Zallah: Wow! You're obviously a serious fan of **_**Persuasion **_**to catch that. Thank you very much for taking the time to review! Your words are going to encourage me to stick with the book as much as I can in working the events into present-day scenarios. (Throwing in a little POTO where it meshes.)**

**tater: (Cheering for my favorite beta!!!) I definitely think Anne is realizing she will no longer be persuaded to loose her grasp upon something she truly values.**

**followthestory: I hope you have been the proud recipient of more goose-bumps since Chapter 29. I did miss your reviews, but I don't want you to feel burdened to comment after every chapter. That's way too much to ask; I'm merely grateful for the immense attention you've given to my story and for your thoughtful feedback.**

**Ana-Misa: Oh, you are so right: Frederik does have a "long memory." But, does Frederik realize his own feelings? Because, if he did, wouldn't it be cruel of him to use Louisa to hurt Anne? Keeping in line with J.A.'s Frederick Wentworth, I don't believe that is in his character. Thanks for your excellent comments!**

**Sweet Christabel: Thank you, thank you!!! I was hoping Anne was coming along, and I'm so glad you let me know it was noticeable. It's true: I have a mean streak. Should I write that on my mirror sticker? (grinning)**


	32. Trials and Triumphs

**A/N: Realistically, the landmarks I mention in this chapter can all be found within the region. Yet, purposefully, this work does not contain a faithful description of any of them.**

Chapter 32 – Trials and Triumphs

_As the song ended, her courage faltered. She looked down and waited, her cheeks flushed._

_He sighed and spoke. "I will tell you this only once. So listen; don't ever confuse emotion with skill. While skill takes an emotive strain many times, emotion must ever be checked. That was very lazy and haphazard. I am not here to listen to you wallow in false pretensions of love."_

_The words came to her like a slap across the face. She felt completely stripped of her composure and could not keep the tears back. She knew that he was aware she was crying as she turned to pack up her music. His next words did nothing to ease her pain. "Go. I will see you on Monday."_

_She ran from the place, hardly noticing whether she pulled the drapery back in place in the chapel or not. Once she made it to her room she thought on the duet. How could she have been so naïve? She didn't love him. She hated him! What a cruel man he was! In her wretchedness, she accidentally struck her desk with her pack making the glass of water that contained the rose smash onto the floor._

_She knelt down to pick up the pieces. The red petals lay amidst the wet splinters and brought back the thoughts of his past and the loss of his mother. Compassion swept over her and a need to understand his reaction. She could admit now that she had not concentrated on her performance, but he had proven himself to be a patient and gentle teacher only moments before with the _Bell Song_. She thought on the few times he had been harsh to her. It had always been when he was feeling some emotion of his own. Vaguely she began to perceive that he was angry with her for showing her love for him. Perhaps he could no longer love. Perhaps he had lost that feeling, or he chose not to know it. But what could she do but feel what she felt? For she loved him dearly, and though she would never do a thing to hurt him, she could not help but express her love in the only way she could._

Benwick made a gentlemanly tour guide. He led her down a main route toward the water, discussing the many attractions on the way. "Have you toured the fort yet?"

"I have not."

"Well, then, let us to the fort immediately." In chivalrous spirit, he gestured to her to take the appropriate path. As they neared the structure, the walk guided them closer in to view the water's edge. Anne could see many boats in the distance roaming the bay.

The Captain stopped and pointed back to the bridge. "There is the rest of the party, I believe." Anne leaned against the rail to see Louisa, Henrietta, Mary, and Charles as they were disappearing over the structure. She perceived they were too distant for her to attempt calling to them. The wind caught up Anne's scarf suddenly, and like the swift motions of a thief, whipped it off from around her neck.

"NO," she heard herself speak loudly. Benwick leaned over to catch it, but it eluded his grasp.

She watched, mortified, as the red ribbon floated as though worn by some unseen figure and made its excruciatingly slow descent onto the water below. Anne couldn't take her eyes off it as it rested on the ripples, becoming thoroughly soaked. She turned her head. She couldn't watch it as it was swallowed up by the water around it.

"I'm terribly sorry," Benwick stated, touching her shoulder. "I'm sure we can replace it, though."

"It is all right," responded Anne, looking up at him. In her face was calm resignation. It was probably for the best, she thought, as she walked toward the fort. She felt guilty for withholding the scarf from her sister the night before. This was her punishment. She should not have done so; she should not have allowed the gift to mean that much to her. She had been fostering the fruitless hope yet again. The emotions with which she had watched the scarf slip from her had made that apparent.

Anne tried to turn her attention to the stone building she was at the point of entering. Yet, she lost a bit of enthusiasm for the tour.

Some time later, Anne and Benwick left the fort and made their way toward the bridge.

"Let us see if we might meet up with them on their way back," said the Captain. They took to the bridge, and saw the four tourists almost immediately. They were at a standstill, admiring the water and boats from its full height. Mary waved to them once Anne caught her attention. They moved nearer one another, the younger sister looking eager to speak with her sibling, when something arrested Louisa's attention.

"Anne, is that your scarf?" she asked, pointing past the woman.

Anne turned to look behind her at a figure who was jogging toward her. She could see that it was a man whose blond hair was set in motion by the quick movement of his legs, the locks glinting in the sunlight. He began to slow his pace as he caught up with her. She turned fully toward him as he reached out his hand which held her dripping gift. The light hit her eyes in such a way that she could only make out his silhouette before her. She reached out her hand and took the scarf, noting his drenched pant legs from the thighs downward. She lifted her hand to cover her eyes as she said, "Thank you, sir."

She was barely able to prevent her gasp. She was looking into the face of the blond-haired gentleman she had seen meeting with Frederik the morning before.

"It is my pleasure," he announced, looking brightly at her. A smile slowly spread across his features. She felt her heart give a rapid pitter-patter under the gaze, for he was fiercely handsome. He was attired in a pale, azure polo, chino pants, and ecru deck shoes. It gave the impression that the stranger was dressed all in white. His skin was slightly bronzed; his eyes were a deep blue. The nonsensical notion passed through Anne's mind that he had come from the water itself.

"I searched the entire site for you," he said, out of breath. He was pointing to the fort.

"I am terribly sorry. But, oh, I am so grateful to you."

He bowed his head slightly, and looked at her again with an expression of surprised pleasure. She had the feeling that he was noting her appearance, though she could hardly own why. She smiled up again at him, her hand still over her eyes.

"Well…" he seemed to hesitate. "Good day," he stated and broke the spell by turning to leave the party.

"Good day!" Anne called back, as did the other women in the party.

"_Who_ was he?" Louisa asked Anne.

"I don't know. I lost my scarf earlier, and he rescued it for me."

"How romantic," stated Henrietta breathlessly.

"I suppose I should have gone after it," lamented poor Benwick. He viewed the deed as quite heroic, judging from the response of the women of the party.

"Oh, I thought it was as good as consigned to the depths forever," responded Anne.

"Well, you should have gotten his name. If you hurry, you might catch up with him," urged Mary.

"Mary!" Louisa said. "That would look quite desperate." She turned to Anne, "Don't go running after the man just to ask his name."

Mary looked nonplussed, but Anne could not help but laugh secretly at Louisa's admonition. For Louisa, herself, did not see fit to heed her own advice when it came to a certain man on whom she'd cast her eye.

"Where were you all the morning? The boys are enjoying their new nanny!" Mary exclaimed excitedly, completely changing the subject.

"Yes," added Louisa, "I just talked to Mama last night. She told me the dinner party went well; the Wentworths seemed to enjoy it."

"And the Poole's are intending to have another for them, isn't that funny?" joined in Henrietta.

"So, they are all being entertained, and we need not worry we left them to an uneventful two weeks." Louisa's statement suggested that she had expected her time away from them to be one of despondency and boredom.

"Only I do hope Charlie is not climbing any trees," commented Mary only slightly distressed. Her thoughts soon turned to their vacation plans. "So, shall we take the guided tour to visit some other locations now?"

They agreed to do so and spent the rest of the afternoon around the town together. It was only after the evening meal that Louisa decided she was spent and went back to the inn. Everyone knew she was going there to meet up with Frederik on his return. The sky had turned to titian and lavender hues, and the five tourists ventured out to the ocean shore. Anne found the walk very beautiful, as did Henrietta. To her surprise, Benwick pulled away from their party to walk alone. As he tossed seashells back into the water, she turned to watch him out of the corner of her eye. Henrietta was conversing about her plans for seeing her fiancé during the upcoming school year.

"I am glad that my Charles is so close to home. It will be easier on Mama. She is terribly low about having to give up her time with me even though I've told her I will not marry for at least another year!" Henrietta was quiet for a moment.

"I am concerned for how Mary will get on with my fiancé," she said in a cautious voice, looking in the woman's direction. "I don't think it will be easy for Charles with her condescending to him, though I can bear with it." She looked up at Anne as though an idea had just occurred to her. "Do you think Valeria Russell might talk her into seeing the engagement in a better light? You know, she is so good at persuading, Louisa says."

Anne could hardly contain her amusement at the thought of Valeria doing such a thing. She knew from where this thought of Henrietta's had sprung, having overheard Louisa's account of Anne's own decision in not marrying her brother. The irony of Henrietta's passive suggestion was not lost on the woman.

"Oh, and it will be frightfully lonely during the week before finals!" Henrietta had already reverted to her previous concern. "I can't see how I'm going to concentrate on my exams when I will have seen Charles only once in that almost four-week period."

"Anne!" called Mary, interrupting the detailed accounts of Henrietta's dilemma. "Have you seen a lighthouse near here?" The small woman looked about her and shook her head. "Well, the brochure claims that there is supposed to be one. We should ask the Harvilles and tour it tomorrow, don't you think?"

"It is in that direction," pointed Benwick. "I'll show you on the map." The amblers gathered around the map Charles was holding as the Captain informed them of the way to the lighthouse.

"Oh, we should all go on the morrow!"

"That is acceptable to me, if you mean to tour it in the afternoon," Charles commented. Mary looked at him perplexed. "Golf in the morning," he reminded her.

His wife did not look at all satisfied with his response. "Oh, can't you put that off?"

"The afternoon will do just as well, Mary," Anne told her. "It does not signify."

"Oh, very well, then," sighed Mary. "It will be much hotter in the middle of the day, though." Her brow was lowered in a sulking attitude.

Charles ignored it. "I am looking forward to our game," he stated to Benwick. Soon the two men were discussing the difficulty of the course and meandered away from the three women.

"So, what think you of Louisa's brooch?" Mary's question surprised Anne. Yet having time for consideration, due to Henrietta's positive response, stated, "I think the piece was very befitting to Louisa's taste."

"And white gold!" added Mary. "It may be a very promising foretelling of things to come." The younger sister looked upon the older with a knowing expression.

Henrietta's eyes dropped, and Anne felt for her. Her sister-in-law's approval was not forthcoming in her case.

As they wended their way back through the streets that evening, it occurred to Anne that she had not felt so affected by Mary's implications about Frederik and Louisa as she had anticipated. She took in a contented breath, and her expression mellowed.

"You have a way of buoying up that spirit of yours that I quite envy," spoke James Benwick. She turned to find him looking earnestly at her as they walked along.

"One thing I have learned about the trials of life," she responded. At his inquiring gaze she continued, "They make you appreciate each small triumph all the more."

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**A/N: "Adonis" has arrived. Who could he be? Any ideas?**

**Ana-Misa: I do have a difficult time keeping Mr. Darcy's actions and words from slipping out. I've always loved his character. As far as the Siren's Song, Anne is a performer. When she is given a job, she puts herself in the frame of mind to do it. So, she feels like she's pushing past the hurtful aspect and is trying to give the rendition that Frederik wants. Does that make sense? I'll tell you, though: she's not over the hurting.**

**followthestory: Lol. While you were screaming at the computer for more in the early morning hours; I was busy scribbling away at the next chapter. She didn't get all sentimental with the Siren's Song, but did what she was asked to do. First, the idea behind the siren and, then, Louisa's brooch were two very important deterrents to keep her from serenading Frederik.**


	33. The Sacrifices of Friendship

Chapter 33

The party entered the inn that evening and followed Louisa's laughter into Harville's rooms by invitation. Mrs. Harville served coffee. The children were already to bed. Anne tried to keep herself from speaking too loudly due to their absence; the little ones had to be able to hear the uproarious chatter in the room. She went to the corner furthest away from the sleeping quarters and sat down. Coincidentally, she was seated exactly where Frederik had read to the boy just that morning.

Benwick followed her over, bringing a seat closer. He said not a word, only sat and stared at the other group as they discussed the day.

Soon Mrs. Harville came over to offer them refreshment. Mary followed, commenting on the shadow boxes adorning the walls. "Your home is decorated so uniquely," she said to her hostess. It was obvious to Anne that she was trying to compliment the woman's abode.

"Yes, my husband made these to display the items he has collected from the islands on his cruises. He is very handy with wood, as you see."

Mary nodded politely, stating, "We have decided to tour the lighthouse tomorrow after the men's golf excursion. You are both welcome to join us."

"It is very kind of you, but my husband's leg…"

"Oh, yes. I had quite forgotten. I should wonder that he would be up for golf tomorrow then," she added, surprised.

Mrs. Harville responded in a very concerned manner, "I hope they will use a cart."

"Oh, yes." Mary looked as though she had not considered this. "I'm sure they will." She gave a curt smile of dismissal and went back to the table. The talk had quieted somewhat, and Anne looked up to Mrs. Harville as she handed her coffee to her.

"Mr. Harville, is he fond of playing golf?" The woman turned to look toward her husband. "I do not think he has thought the least bit about the sport, but about the company, Miss Elliot."

"Oh, please; it is just Anne. He and Frederik, they are great friends."

"Yes, very much so."

Benwick got up to get sugar.

"You must have much to do around the place while your husband is with his friend."

Mrs. Harville looked at her with an expression of amazement. "Oh, not really. Did you not know? Frederik booked the entire inn for two weeks while he is visiting. I think it was due to my husband's disinclination to take payment for the work his is doing on the theatrical composition. For he is a friend of great value, Frederik is. You see," Mrs. Harville, after checking to see that Benwick was not returned, sat down beside Anne and explained, "After the news came of Fanny's passing, it was he who broke the news to James. And Frederik was so solicitous to the needs of us all during that difficult time that he is as much family to us as blood could ever be. More so, perhaps."

"Just so, my dear. Just so," spoke Harville, coming up to the two ladies. He had heard this last statement spoken tenderly by his wife. "Miss Elliot," said he, claiming the woman's attention, "I want to acknowledge to you how much help your interpretation of Frederik's song was today at the studio. I hope you will forgive my friend. If you knew him like I do, you would know he meant nothing by it."

"I do not doubt it, Mr. Harville." She did not wish to expound on her knowledge of the subject of their conversation. Yet, her serene countenance led the man to believe she did not hold a grudge toward his dear friend.

"Benwick there," he gestured to the man who leaned against the kitchen counter and drank his coffee, looking toward those who sat at table and conversed. "He has had a difficult time these past four years since my sister passed. He came to live with us last fall, and I had hoped to have some ability to bring him out of his despondency. As you see, I have been unsuccessful. Four years is a long time to harbor such grief, is it not?"

Anne agreed outwardly, while inwardly she reflected with chagrin that she had known a longer passage of time.

"He is young though, Mr. Harville. Surely he will rally again."

Harville sighed and touched the arm of her chair. "I am encouraged by your optimism." At this, Anne felt ready to laugh and protest but suppressed both reactions. That she, of all people, should be uplifting the afflicted hearts of these benevolent individuals was hard to comprehend, let alone acknowledge as truth. "You are a very kind, generous spirit, and I am glad to know you," spoke the man sincerely.

At these compliments, Anne colored and wondered why they had been given. Surely she had done nothing to merit them. Harville's next works gave her a better understanding of his good opinion of her. "You have been very beneficial to the man's frame of mind these past two days. Such a great change have I seen in him. I am hopeful that he will come to himself again."

Harville stood before her for some time, and when she did look up, she found the same quizzical expression on his face she had seen there earlier that day. Not knowing what she should answer, she quickly stated, "I am grateful to have met such friends of-," she stopped. For she realized she had intended to say "Frederik." Instead, she continued, "compassion and concern for those who call upon their aid in time of need."

Her host, looking over at his wife briefly, smiled at Anne. "I believe I can easily speak for my wife and myself when I say, 'you have shown yourself a friend in helping our Benwick, and should we ever be able to be of service to you, you have but to ask.'"

These words, so heartfelt, touched Anne immeasurably. And, though she kept a calm exterior until she took her leave of the Harvilles that night, she felt an unexpected depression of her own spirits. These friends of Frederik's proved themselves again and again to be superior in mind and heart over anything she had known. They rejoiced at the joy of their fellow sojourners and ached in the sorrow of the grieved among them. The love displayed in that small home was a selfless and beautiful one in its simplicity. It hurt her to think that these friends could not be her intimate friends, even as they reached out the hand of friendship to her. For, she must separate herself from such a world, because it would do more harm than good to be surrounded by those who were so closely associated with one from whom she must refrain from intimacy.

Her mind had had time to work through the confrontation in the studio that morning. It was now very apparent to her that Frederik had not been pleased by his inadvertent reference to their past. It hurt her to think on his reaction now. It was as though he had recoiled from her.

Could she have known the outcome, she might have saved him that pain. Yet, she had been too absorbed with her own behavior to consider how her presence on the trip could affect him. For, if the situation had been reversed, she knew that he would have endured much to protect her from being hurt. At least, he would have done so at one time. For at one time, he had.

_Christine entered Erik's music room with an animated expression. That day she had received news that she had secured the role of Juliet. She had met with Erik for four sessions since the mortification of the duet. Even in that short period they had quietly reconciled. She had drunk her tea with him each evening, and he had been especially jovial and talkative. He had overlooked her mistakes and control inconsistencies, and had complimented her victorious efforts. Yet, her heart beat quickly when he announced that she would sing the duet, _Ange Adorable_, once more._

_Again, as their voices blended, she could not keep her heart from overflowing into her voice. She concentrated furtively on the fine points of her execution, hoping to please him this time. From her came that incredibly pure and unearthly sound that she had first awakened when she had sung _Dido's Lament_ to her mother as he had urged her._

_When the song was over, Erik said not a word. Instead, he excused himself from the room. Christine felt deeply shaken by his abrupt leave-taking. She knew that she had expressed herself to Erik by way of the song once more. Had she irretrievably offended him now? Oh, how she wished she could have kept from showing her feelings so openly, but she could not. Her love was too full within her. _

_Yet, he had never given her any true indication that he felt the same. Had she hurt their relationship irrevocably? That question convinced her of her wrongdoing. It would be better to ache with a love unrequited than to cause him pain. She had to take it back; she had to talk to him._

_She went from room to room quietly; afraid that if she called to him it would make him angry with her. There was one room left. She had always assumed it was his bedroom, and had never trespassed. Yet, she tried the door, and it opened to her. The room had no light but the small amount that came from the room without, wherein she stood. For a moment her eyes could not adjust to the darkness, but she could feel that he was in the room. There was fury there, and it froze the blood within her veins._

"_Get out, Christine," he demanded threateningly. She pulled the door closed slightly, then stopped._

"_I won't. I won't leave you, Erik." To this he did not answer, and she bravely continued. "Have I hurt you? Please, tell me. I am sorry if I have-"_

"_Hurt me, Christine? My body could be crushed by the weight of these beams above me, and I would never feel the pain I do now."_

"_I am sorry-"_

"_You're sorry! For what? For looking at me the way you did as you sang those words of amorous entreaty? For singing like an ethereal being with the untainted essence of the stars in your voice? What have you to be sorry for?!"_

_It was then that she understood. He loved her as well! Yet, he chose to suppress that love and was infuriated that she would not do the same. But, why? Why would he not return the love she offered? _

"_I am sorry for loving you! I can not help it!" She bit her lip as the words escaped. Perhaps she should not have said them, but they were gone from her. She could not take them back._

"_Please, Christine!" His voice was one of pure agony now. Why did he continue fighting? And, what was the reason for the anguish of his tone? Because of what lay behind the mask? Oh, ridiculous man; nothing so foolish could keep her from loving him._

"_Tell me you don't feel the same," she challenged. "Only then I will leave."_

_For a long while he said nothing. She considered repeating her request; the waiting was unbearable._

"_You may leave and never return." She turned from the door slightly. Again, the words were as though he had struck her. Then she rallied and stepped back around._

"_I will leave when you tell me to do so face to face." A shudder went through her. She knew that she was provoking him to remove his mask and tell her the truth._

_He walked out of the shadows of his bedroom toward her. The light took in the calves of his dark slacks and moved up his thin figure as he came nearer. She backed away, unconsciously. He was going to meet her challenge. And, for the first time, she was really afraid of what she would see._

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**A/N: You know what's coming next. In the meantime, what did you think of this chapter?**

**followthestory: I was absolutely delighted with your review! "****Behind such a cool composure must lay a heart of fire. Considering his passion for music... Is she not song incarnate?" Adored this!! The question I have to ask is: what is the point of giving that devoted love to one he does not believe will return it? That is the place where Frederik's thoughts reside at this moment. By 'climax,' do you mean Louisa's fall or Anne finally getting together with (whoever she ends up with)? Are you ready for the story to conclude? (very sad and pitiful face) You've already met Raoul now. The answer to your last question is: the next chapter.**

**Ana-Misa: Yes, Frederik was definitely rude; internal conflict abounds. Anne knows that she didn't perform the last part of the song as well as she could have; she was out of practice. Ch. 31 must have been the question chapter. I wonder if that means it wasn't written well enough…of course, the explanations came in later chapters…hmmm… Thanks for giving me such a good review, so I can go back and re-peruse.**


	34. Behind His Mask

**A/N: This chapter is being posted a bit early because I'm celebrating 10,000 hits to my story. Perhaps that is not a big deal, but it's my first fic and means a lot to me. Thanks to all of you who are enjoying A Lyrical Persuasion.**

Chapter 34 – Behind the Mask

_She had not expected that the mask was already off, but as his face came into view, she immediately perceived that there was no blackness covering it. For a moment, she took in white and blotches of reds and pinks._

_She felt as though the breath had been forced from her as she stared up at his twisted and puffy countenance. The first feature to which her eyes were drawn was his mouth. His teeth were not covered by lips. They gave the impression of an everlasting smile; not kind, but grotesquely ghoulish. The few portions of lip he had were puffy and swollen. The stretched skin that surrounded his teeth moved in deep valleys into the sides where the fleshy part of the cheek should have resided. Instead of cheek bones were twisted knots in incongruent intervals traversing the sides of his face. His eyes were deep sockets under his protruding brow. The forehead jutted out as to give the impression of his head expanding out of his face. The hairline was much further back, as though his hair shied away from his disfiguration as well. There were only a few strands that lay across the front of his head. Yet, the feature that made the over-all appearance most disturbing was the nose, for there was hardly one at all, like the bones of a skull itself._

_The face, smiling eerily, spoke to her then. But the lips did not move._

"_You want me to tell you to your face, Christine? Have it your way. From the moment I first saw you as I looked between the walls while you practiced, I knew my heart would never be my own again." The face was not moving. It stared it her with its wicked expression, and from it Erik's voice, in hate-filled tones, told her the truth._

"_Your voice was divine to my ears as I listened within my empty abyss. But once I saw you, I could not be satisfied. I knew you could never love me…"_

"_Stop! Stop it!" Christine screamed. The hate, the face, and the fury that surrounded her were too much. Her senses could take no more. She wanted to run but could not. She felt her legs give way underneath her. The face came toward her, expressionless but for that horrid smile. She forced herself to look directly into the eyes. They were Erik's eyes, a lucid yellow with flashes of amber which shone red in the light coming from behind her. They were flooded with tears; she saw them. Somehow that recognition strengthened her, and she gained control of her balance. Within her horror-filled mind had crept a small soldier that resolved to conquer the shrinking feeling._

_He had reached out his arm to help her, and now she grasped it as he began to turn from her once she was righted. "Forgive me, Erik. I couldn't – I wasn't - ."_

_He released himself from her hold and went back into his room. As the door closed, she heard him say resolutely, "Goodbye, Christine. Remember, I never pushed the sight upon you."_

She took the sea-washed scarf, the embroidered thread still damp in places where it had been bunched together in her pocket, and set it in the sink to wash. She carefully added a small amount of her shampoo to cleanse the salt-encrusted material. She took great pains to remove what residue she could, but the shimmering highlights were not restored. It had lost its luster.

She could not undo the damage that had been done.

At eleven that night, Anne's cell started ringing. The woman was already asleep but awakened and nervously picked up the phone.

"Hello, what's wrong Leri?"

"Oh…Oh! Nothing. I was only returning your call. I'm so sorry; did I wake you? I will call back tomorrow."

"No, no. I'm already awake now. Tell me about your flight back. Did it go well?"

"Surprisingly well. I have spent much of today going over my household affairs and visiting friends; else I would have called sooner. I did mean to tell you one thing that I learned the day before I left, though. It is about your cousin."

"My cousin?"

"Yes, Raoul."

"Oh." She was sure Valeria had caught the unenthusiastic tenor of the syllable, as the grogginess of her memory receded.

"It is not as I had hoped. He has gone away for a few days, and so he could not be a claim upon your father's attentions while I am away. I am very fearful that this week will be ample time for that bleach-haired nuisance to finally ensnare your father's affections. If I were able to do so, I would return immediately. Yet, my matters are pressing here, and I do not think I will have them seen to properly if I do not stay for a little while yet. I must have patience, and so must you."

"When I return, we can leave promptly for New York. In that way we will soon be in my father's company, and perhaps our presence will keep Dad in check about Penelope. Does that ease your mind?"

"Oh, Anne, I have my suspicions that much can be accomplished by that woman in even a short absence." She huffed and continued, "Oh, I am so frustrated with this situation. Why could your cousin not stay as he should have done? It has put me out exceedingly. I can't be at ease until I am sure your father is safe."

"Why not call Elizabeth? You might ask how they are getting on without you. It might bring you peace of mind to know how busy they have been."

"I dare not bother Elizabeth, for she is on the verge of banishing me from the Elliot pied-a-terre altogether!"

"When we return, you need have no fear. I will vouch for you."

"No. Now I will not be to blame for causing strife within the family."

"Oh, Leri."

"Anne, you do not know how very touchy the subject has become. I can only beg you to trust my judgment, and you will know all soon." These words did nothing to calm the tired woman.

At Anne's silence, Valeria Russell said, "It does no good to think on it now. And you are on your vacation! It was inconsiderate of me to speak of this bothersome matter to you."

Anne laughed, "It seems you must be the bearer of bad tidings since you went with my father and sister. You are not to blame, dearest Leri."

"Well, I shall make my news more palatable by telling you that your apartment is completely cleared out and ready. All your own again! And I have a note from a Ms. Sorelli to give to you."

Anne perked up at her friend's name. Georgina Sorelli had been her roommate for three years in New York, but had taken a hiatus from her work as a dance instructor for a year and moved out of the state. "What does it say?"

"I haven't opened it. Shall I do so now?"

"Please." Anne waited on the phone as Valeria searched about for the epistle.

"I have misplaced it. Perhaps I left it with Pamela in New York. Yes, I believe I did. I will call my assistant tomorrow and have her read it to me, would that be sufficient?"

"No. I shall wait."

"I can have her mail it to you."

"No. We will be in New York shortly. I am sure it isn't pressing or she would have phoned."

"Goodnight. I will let you get your rest now."

Anne hung up the phone troubled by Mrs. Russell's words regarding her father and Penelope. It was sad to admit, but she did feel that the preoccupation with her father's situation allowed her some freedom from her earlier thoughts of Frederik.

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**Nonny: (hands on blushing cheeks) Thank you for your lovely compliments. They have come at just the right time because I am dealing with writer's block. Your words have helped me to press forward. There is nothing as encouraging to me as knowing you are looking forward to each new chapter and appreciate that I am trying to keep up my pace and finish the piece. And, yes, it was really fulfilling to write the last lines of Chapter 32.**

**Sweet Christabel: When I wrote of Anne's meeting with "Adonis," I giggled like a giddy fan who meets her heartthrob. Isn't that pathetic? "…by the time this story's over," hmmm… Thanks for letting me know you intend to see it through, at least, up to this point.**

**Victorian Era Drama: First, great name. Second, - whoo hoo!! – someone who knows about the scarf! Thank you, thank you for reviewing. Btw, the scarf's role is not over yet.**

**Ana-Misa: You're extraordinary! Not only are you quick to discern the details, but taking the time to back-review for me. In Leroux's POTO, Raoul was training as a sailor and was on leave when he met Christine. So, the sea was innately part of both stories.**


	35. That Lonely Sphere

Chapter 35 – That Lonely Sphere

Anne rose early the next morning, having awakened in the night to find her pillow saturated with tears. She had tried to quell the ache that had accompanied the interruption of her repose. She felt spent from the turmoil her dreams had caused her psyche.

In her dream, she had been running toward Erik. Not the new Erik, but the old one with the smile she would never forget. He would walk around the shining beams beneath the opera house and disappear. She would weave between the steel and catch a glimpse of him only a few steps before her. She would call to him, and over and over he would lead her in breathless anticipation to find that he was gone again.

It took everything in her power, when she rose from that unrest, not to scream forth, "Erik!" as the throes of sorrow washed over her. She could not pretend to sleep again.

When from the window the blurred lines of the morning light began to summon the day, she rose, showered, and dressed spiritlessly. So despondent was she that she had no inclination to encounter anyone. Anne determined to leave the bed and breakfast, and find a peaceful cranny in some historical site to inhabit. Gently stepping down the stairs, she had almost made it out of the house when she heard voices behind the closed doors leading into the dining room.

"This was a great favor to me, Wentworth. I am ever at your service." From the entryway, Anne perceived the man's voice was not one of the inhabitants of the inn. Yet, it was familiar to her.

"While I did not understand the necessity of it, a couple of days to have the deed in hand did not cause me any trouble." Frederik responded.

"Tell me, will you be in New York…" The voices faded away as Anne closed the front door softly behind her. She had no intention of listening in. But, just as she moved to walk up the gravel way to the lane, she heard the knob on the front door turn. Swiftly she came around the side of the house, holding her breath as the voices became more distinct once the two men stepped outside.

They were not speaking loudly, and Anne could only make out that they were parting at the entry to the street. She made her way on tip-toe around to the back of the house and exited the property. When she had closed the gate behind her, she inhaled, closing her eyes and allowing a relieved sigh to escape. Frederik was the last person she would wish to see on this dreary morning.

It was her intention to visit a district on the other side of the main streets of town, so she quickly headed toward the road which the inn faced. She entered it a few paces away from the Harvilles' establishment. Making her way across, she happened to intersect the path of the man who had rescued her scarf the day before.

No one else was about on the street at that hour of the morning. She considered thanking him again but suddenly felt abashed. Did he remember her? He nodded to her slightly, which made her stop and attempt to go around him. But he was already halting to allow her to advance.

"I beg your pardon," she said, feeling slightly foolish.

"The fault is mine." He gave no indication that he recognized her.

"No, it is nothing." As she turned to walk down the way between two buildings, it affected her to look back at him as he continued on. He turned his head to view her unconscious glance, and a provocative smile played upon his lips. Anne felt instantly embarrassed and hurried on almost at a run. Whoever he was, her heart had already missed a few beats because of him.

She walked along a road that did not seem to be leading her to any real destination. She found that most of the scenic buildings did not open their doors for an hour, at the least. So instead, she meandered about the streets hoping to find some shop or even a bench under a tree to bide her time. As the lane ended onto another, it occurred to her that the handsome stranger she had met might very well have been the one to whom Frederik had been speaking in the dining room. Perhaps he had come to deliver the deed to the property in France. She smiled to herself as she recalled how Frederik had spoken to her when she'd witnessed his meeting the first day in town. He had known that she had understood how important that transaction was to him. Her mood turned her thoughts away from his happiness and dwelt upon the lack of her own. She felt too tired to fight the attack upon her sensibilities. Yet, she told herself she was being quite ridiculous. The emotions that had entrapped her in the dream were not based on any realistic understanding of the situation. The Erik that she had loved, she had left in France. In his place was another. Yes, perhaps he reacted in the same manner about his music, and perhaps he was privy to the relationship they had had once. But that was all.

This Frederik Wentworth loved Louisa. He was a very talented composer with no concern for reliving the past. And did she wish him to do so? Did she wish to go back to the time when he was sealed in that large hall like a living corpse within his tomb? Never! She would rejoice in his escape of that lonely sphere and his progression in having surrounded himself with friendship…and love, again!

_Christine entered the opera hall and deposited herself in the room where she had practiced for the last two weeks without any instruction from Erik. She still tried the hidden chapel door before and after her practice. Yet, she had lost hope that he would admit her into his home ever again. She despised herself for being so weak, for allowing the feelings of horror and disgust to show on her features as she had looked upon him. It had hurt him immeasurably, she knew. He hated her for it; it had been clear in every syllable he had spoken with those immobile lips._

_But her heart ached for him. Oh, how she wanted to tell him she was sorry and that she had been foolish. Not foolish about loving him, but in her inability to ascertain the seriousness of his plight. She had been so ignorant. Who would harbor himself in such a dark world without a true reason to do so?_

_She tried singing to him in the first days and crying to him in the days thereafter. It did not matter; he didn't come. He wasn't watching her. She was always able to feel when he was near; it was a proof to her that they were intrinsically bound. Yet, he had pulled away, and she could do nothing but let the parting take place. He gave her no choice, because she had hurt him in a manner which now no action of hers could rescind._

_She took her position again in front of the mirror and sang the _Bell Song_ once more. It seemed almost pointless, for she had no instructor to guide her. The method felt wrong to her, and she could not critique herself, having had very little experience with the technique to sing it properly. She had gone through the song a second time, very dejectedly, when she suddenly became aware that he was listening. Her voice faltered, and she became quiet, staring into the mirror hoping that he would say some word._

_She waited interminably, it seemed. He did not address her. She felt the tears of frustration well up. What could she say that would convince him to speak? Was this just a last goodbye which she was expected to accept in its finality?_

"_Do you intend to sing that for the judges?" She would have felt relieved that he had finally broken the silence, but his words were hurtful, bitter._

"_I was told it would become one of my signature pieces." She said it quietly, yet a feeling warned her to steel her defenses. _

_Her intuition had been correct, she soon discovered. His next words were sharp. "If that is your signature, I'm afraid your career will be of short duration."_

_She whirled away from the mirror and faced the wall which she knew him to be standing behind. "Don't insult me because you are angry that I hurt you. I'm sorry, and I'll say it a hundred times over. But I won't let you disparage my lack of skill on a song you recommended for me to sing." He didn't reply. "And I will sing it," she said resolutely. "I trusted your judgment. I – I trust you, whether you trust me or no."_

_She picked up her pack and flung it over her shoulder, only to turn to the mirror and find his face – not his masked face – staring at her._

"_Very well. I will instruct you in this song, as I promised. Do you still wish to learn from me now?"_

_She turned to confront him. Her breath was caught in her throat, but she suppressed the expression of fear on her countenance, forcing herself to look into his eyes._

"_Yes, Erik. I wish to learn from you."_

"_Very well. Our lessons will recommence tonight. But you will come by this way. The chapel is being watched."_

_She nodded as he walked between the panels, and the wall moved back into its former place._

_She returned that evening to the room, and the panel moved to admit her almost immediately. She prepared herself to look on his countenance once more and was surprised to find he was wearing the black mask. He led her beyond the small shelter of the panels and down the steps to the metal structure. The stairs had been widened and a rail now guarded her against the ledge. When she reached the place where she had crossed on the beams, she found a commodious, well-built bridge. He led her between the beams along the roof of his home toward the back door to his rooms._

_Once within the music room, he bent his head to remove his mask. "From now on," he stated, "I will not wear this while I play." He did not turn to look at her but merely sat down at the piano. "If you have any objection, you are welcome to leave at any time."_

"_I have no objection." She wanted to tell him that she was happy for it, but she was still so unused to his features. In some sense, she felt that perhaps to say those words might be untruthful and be a cause to enrage him. Christine could feel his mood. He was looking for any way to be rid of her, yet felt importuned by his conscience to keep his word._

"_The _Bell Song_," he directed, and she pulled out her music. "Turn to the sixth page. Your control is horrendous. We will begin here and work our way to the more challenging passages."_

_Her expression did not bespeak the hurt she felt at his matter-of-fact instruction. The pupil would give her teacher no reason to dismiss her due to unprofessional conduct._

_He stopped the piano midway through the piece. "Stronger. You are not reaching the full volume before you begin the next note." Then he stopped her again. "Wrong. Stop slurring the notes. Hit them all." He made her practice the same stanza repeatedly. She felt the tears stinging behind her eyes, but she pushed them back. She told herself to keep calm; she would not give way. He would have to teach her, unmercifully, perhaps; but he would keep his promise._

_For two hours, she sang the song. When he heard the first rasps of hoarseness, he stopped. She looked up from the page, surprised. What would happen now? He stood up from the seat and put away his music._

"_That is all for this evening. We will continue again on the morrow." He escorted her all the way to the wall of the music room behind the opera hall without speaking a word. "Bring your light; I'll expect you to find your own way on your return."_

"_Goodnight," she said as the wall moved back. He did not answer._

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**A/N: A glimpse of Erik's unforgiving spirit. Please review!**

**Ana-Misa: Well, your senses have steered you right…yet again. I have tried to bring forth the immature aspects of the young Anne, and how she evolved into the present day Anne. She certainly sacrifices to bring peace to her family and friends, but Anne knows her own value. When something is a priority, Anne will not give way. But, she will not lash-out passive-aggressively, either. As always, I relish your reviews!**


	36. Saying Farewell

**A/N: For those who are not familiar w/ Leroux's POTO, the cemetery is inspired by that story.**

Chapter 36 – Saying Farewell

_The next night she considered abandoning the practice. He had been so devoid of kindness. Did she really wish to irritate him by insisting that he keep his promise? Was she really so desperate to benefit from his training in the refinement of her skill? She owned she did not care in the least about the _Bell Song_. She knew she could find a new instructor once she left the school; she had the talent and the wherewithal to succeed now. But he mattered. Yet, having to endure his biting criticism; was it the best way to apply for the approval she craved from him? Would it not be better to leave him to his wounds and not increase his suffering? She knew the answer. Leaving him to retreat within such an isolated realm would not help him. Though his cruel words might sting, she would not allow him to be consumed by his own self-destructive thoughts._

_There was no doubt in her heart that she still loved him. It had not been the features behind the mask that had drawn her to him, but the man within. So why should his face make a difference to her now? From that knowledge burst forth a tenacious hope that she would finally reach him. It would take patience, though. She had not confided in anyone; not even her godmother could understand the real state of her feelings. Yet Valeria had already divined some truth from their conversation together three weeks before._

_She found her way to the back of his rooms and knocked upon the door. He opened it to her. Christine saw that his mask was removed. She smiled up at him. "It is nice to see you again," she said with all the boldness she could muster._

_He turned and went to the piano. "Page ten." He began to play and hardly waited for her to find her place._

_She sang and meekly allowed his fault-finding to continue. After much repetition, he stopped playing and looked up at her. "You are improving. Now let's start at the beginning of the song again."_

_Christine complied with outward indifference, but inside she felt triumphant. Not about her execution of the passage, but that she had finally perfected that small portion of the score enough that he had to acknowledge it. That was progress. Again she continued to slur the movement of the melody, and again he would reprove her for it. But she was buoyed by that one crumb of praise. He stopped her before the two hours were up and asked, "How is your Juliet instruction faring?"_

_She smiled at him sweetly. "M. Poligny has told me that I am the most perspicacious student he has ever worked with."_

"_Have you begun practicing your parts with the other artists?"_

"_Yes. I sang with Honora - she will be Juliet's nurse – two days ago."_

"_Good. When do you begin practice on the duets with the performer for Romeo?"_

"_Next week. He is still learning the music."_

"_I hope you will be careful to keep your concentration during _Ange Adorable_."_

_He spoke very bitterly. Christine zealously took the opportunity presented. "It is only with you that I have trouble keeping my emotions in check with that song. You know that."_

"_You're too innocent, Christine -"_

"_You're too hard on yourself," she interrupted._

_She heard him chuckle softly. "And here I thought I was being hard on you."_

"_You think I can't see what you are trying to do, but-"_

"_And what is that?" he interrupted her._

"_You are trying to make me give up. You want me to tell you I don't want you to be my instructor."_

"_And you won't do that," he said._

"_No, I won't." She gazed into his eyes steadily. "You won't rid yourself of me that easily."_

_He folded his hands on the top of the piano, as he was apt to do. "Very well, then. I won't be rid of you. You will learn the _Bell Song_, you will sing it at the end of the year, you will graduate, and then you will go on to perform in theaters and concerts all over the world. Is that what you want to hear?"_

"_It is not all I want to hear." She paused. If she should tell him what she wanted, would it be a means for him to be affronted and to ask her to leave?_

"_Well, perhaps we can't have everything our hearts desire." He stated it mockingly, as though speaking to a child._

_Immediately, she saw it would be fruitless to continue in sentimentality and tried another avenue. "I didn't know that having an invitation to drink tea with you was asking so much."_

_He was silent for a moment, as though he had not expected this request. "Not tonight," he said quietly. "It is late, and you have a full schedule tomorrow."_

_She acquiesced by putting her things away and following him to the back door. He allowed her to pass as he held it for her. She stopped as she stood beside him. Not looking up, she stated, "Goodnight, Erik. I hope your dreams are pleasant."_

_He did not answer, but did not close the door. He allowed the light of the room to attend her as she climbed to the upper level. She was almost certain she heard him sigh to himself._

_The next evening he did invite her to drink tea with him. It verily surprised her, for she had found the session very difficult. He had introduced one of the more difficult passages of the song, setting a candle before her to assure that she was singing the method correctly throughout. Of course, she did not and found it very trying to concentrate on the volume, pitch, and the flicker of the flame. He watched her severely and would not allow the song to continue until she had the skill well in hand._

_Yet, to sit down upon the seat in his living room and drink tea was such a reward after the painstaking lesson. She looked around her and noticed that some of the articles that had been in the room before were missing. The room had had a cozy, albeit unconventional, atmosphere. Now it was somewhat desolate. _

_He sat down across from her and brought his own cup to his teeth. At that moment she realized he had never actually drunk of the cup within her view. He inhaled the liquid slowly through his open jaw, the noise of it rattling through the room. She quickly looked away and sipped her beverage carefully._

"_Excuse me," he stated, as he put down the cup. "I'm sure my manners are not what they should be. As you see, I have a difficult time conforming to the etiquette required in drinking tea."_

_She did not answer but began to perceive that he was trying to illustrate how differently his life was lived from the rest of society. To make his presence unpleasant to her was again his design._

"_Oh, Erik," she sighed and allowed the cup to rest in its saucer. "Why can't you just be yourself again? Why do you hate me so?"_

"_I don't hate you." The words were spoken far too forcefully for her to resist looking him in the eye._

_As she took in those golden orbs, she said, "I'm sorry. It was my fault. I know I hurt you. I know it was a thoughtless ultimatum. But-"_

"_Don't continue. We are not going to speak of it. I do not intend for us to reconcile. Once you have mastered the song, the lessons will be over; and we will go on with our lives. You will pursue your career, and I will continue to carry out my quiet existence." His last statement was saturated in self-loathing._

"_I don't see why-"_

"_I haven't asked you to understand, have I?" He was raising his voice threateningly. She sat mutely, her unhappy expression pleading with him to reconsider his decision. For a few moments she sat irresolute, unsure of how to act or speak._

"_You may go now. I will see you again on Monday." That weekend was a miserable one. Christine considered giving up her resolve but, through habit, went back._

"_I have a request to make of you," she began after entering the room. She wasn't certain if he would give her time once the lesson was over._

"_Christine…"His tone was one of impatient irritation._

"_Just hear me out. I have a godmother, Valeria Russell. She visits me here; looks in on me. And…she knows about you." He sat back on his bench, and she felt that he was perusing her features. She could not meet his gaze._

"_How much does she know about me?"_

_She ignored the question. "She wants to meet you."_

_Erik did not answer; the atmosphere was becoming constricted. With obvious effort at constraining his temper, he inquired, "Why does she want that, Christine?"_

"_She knows -," the girl stopped herself from telling him that Valeria knew her heart was involved. "She knows that there is someone else teaching me to sing."_

_She could surmise from his silence that this explanation was plausible to him. And, indeed, it made sense to question how the girl had made such strides in her vocal abilities in the past few months._

"_And what would be the purpose of meeting with her?"_

"_I think she found it suspicious that I did not already offer for her to do so."_

"_That was wise of you. I have no intentions of meeting with your family, extended or otherwise." He began the introduction of the song. Disappointedly, she prepared herself to sing._

_Yet, like every other favor she had asked of him, he later yielded and carried out the formidable task. He made it apparent that he did so against his will and even cautioned her._

"_She won't think well of me, you realize," he stated the day before the intended meeting._

"_She knows that I think well of you. That is what matters," she told him._

_Valeria Russell's distrustful statements to her goddaughter afterwards had cut the girl to the quick. His counsel had rung true. What hurt her most was the realization that his regard of himself had now been confirmed by Valeria's actions. Christine knew he would seize this instance as a validation of his ostracism from the world of which she was a part. It would cause him to delve deeper into himself and pull away from her._

_Yet, when she met with him again, he did not ask her for her godmother's impressions. In truth, the disheartened manner with which she met him again was indication enough of what had gone on between the two women. _

_They continued to practice until the evening when he looked up from the piano and stated, "That is how it should be sung in principle. In spirit…well, there is something lacking." It was but a pittance of praise the committed singer received. Still, she cherished it, little expecting what his next words would mean to her._

"_So, you will need to work on the pathos of the song. That is nothing I can teach you." He stood up and reached out his hand to her. For a moment she did not comprehend his actions, but lifted her hand to his. "Goodbye, Christine. I have great expectations of hearing of your successes in future endeavors." Her mouth dropped open, but there was no word forthcoming. He really meant to end it all. _

As she walked past some of the buildings, she came to a small grove of trees. The area was overgrown with foliage and gave the impression of being out of place in the hub of the tourist shops. Within that wooded area, Anne found crumbling stones set apart from one another. It was a cemetery, a resting place for the mortal bodies of the deceased. She approached a small bench overlooking the tombstones, sat down, and looked upon the memorials of those who had gone on. The large trees overhanging the grounds shielded it from the light of the sun. So overgrown was the canopy above, that it afforded the woman on the bench shade that bordered on being overly cool in the humid morning air.

Though Anne had been certain that all of her tears had been shed, she found the little drops cascading down her cheeks once more that day. She felt strangely unperturbed within. Relief was the emotion she acknowledged, that and peace. She allowed the flood of feeling to pass over her, closing her eyes to its gentle tranquility. She tilted her head back and listened to the trills of the birds who sang to one another about her. The musical quality was not wasted on the distraught woman sitting beneath the singing trees. A mockingbird raised its voice to imitate those melodies being sung about it. In its efforts, its own tune became a freshly unique refrain.

She looked overhead to the veil of leaf and branch above her and spoke into the serene atmosphere. "Goodbye, my love," she said softly. Then, as though to confirm it aloud, she repeated it again. "Goodbye, Erik."

She lifted herself from the bench and looked at her watch. It was past 8:30 now. She would tour a few of the historical buildings before she returned to the inn. After all, this was intended to be a time to recuperate before returning home and to work again.

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**A/N: Did you catch the mockingbird allusion? Okay, a tad narcissistic.**

**Ana-Misa: Your reviews make my day! They are so thorough, and give me a real feel for how the piece is coming across. I wondered if it was too macabre. Do you think I can still keep my 'K' rating? Not giving 8-year-olds nightmares, hopefully. Lol.**

**Victorian Era Drama: Thanks for the congrats! I think you will like how the scarf plays out. But, I won't ruin it and say anymore. Many of the books I've (re)read lately have been because of the fics here. This is such a cool site!**


	37. A Time of Refreshing

**A/N: I plan to post an additional chapter when this story makes 100 reviews. Chapter 38 is going to be a hefty cliffhanger, so I'd like to be able to double update… That is, if you'll be kind enough to review.**

Chapter 37

"Anne, where are you?" was Mary's inquiry over the phone.

"I'm not sure, but I'm trying to find my way to the Spanish museum.

"Well," huffed her younger sister, "you have left us consumed with worry over your disappearance. You could have at least left a note."

"I did not mean to worry you."

"You are very inconsiderate sometimes, Anne. This is the second morning you've sneaked off in a secretive manner, and we are left to bide our time wondering whether some evil has befallen you."

"Are Louisa and Henrietta waiting for me as well?"

"Well, no. They left before I made it down, but I called to see if you were with them. They were very concerned that something might have happened. You have given us such a scare."

"I will return for you immediately, Mary. It will take me some twenty minutes, I imagine."

"Twenty minutes! I had not known you were so far away. I will meet you somewhere instead. I have not taken breakfast as yet."

"Why haven't you eaten at the inn?"

Frustrated, Mary explained, "I was the last to enter the dining room and everything was cleared. I suppose late-risers must go without."

Anne managed to direct her sister to the whereabouts of a dining establishment she had noted would be serving breakfast during her morning jaunt. She made her way to the restaurant and waited for a full half-hour before the younger woman was seen.

Mary sat down across from her. "There is a darling jewelry shop just up the way. They are having a fabulous sale; look what I purchased."

The sisters ordered as Mary displayed her new trinkets. "I think I shall wear this one with my chartreuse gown. Don't you think it will look nice?"

Anne nodded and said every good thing that was expected of her. She did not feel aggravated at Mary's tardiness. For it did no good to dwell on that which no earthly power could change. She told herself that she was in no hurry to be anywhere, and she could just as easily enjoy her vacation while listening to her sister's happy chatter as she could being on her own. Though, perhaps, she might prefer the latter more. Yet, she would have time for solitary strolls another day. Mary needed her company in the absence of Charles, who would be on the course all the morning.

Mary saw no reason to tour the grounds of any of the fine buildings that Anne had wanted to view, so the day was spent perusing the shops along the boulevard. Mary was determined that everyone should have some small memoir of the visit they had not taken, from her sister in New York, with whom she felt no need to communicate when Anne was present to contact her, to the new nanny. Anne became the extra arms to carry all of the parcels and an extra opinion which, when asked for, was generally ignored.

At three o'clock, Anne was mercifully reprieved from having to carrying more articles by Mary's decision that she had found enough for that day and wanted to go back to deposit her many bags in the room. Her decision might also have been attributed to her curiosity at whether her husband was back from his game early. In this she was disappointed and decided to leave promptly to find lunch.

"Will you not go out again with me?" she asked when she knocked on Anne's door and it was answered.

Anne had already removed her shoes and told her sister, "I require a nap."

Mary sighed. "I sometimes think you the least adventuresome individual on earth! I've never seen a person so persuaded to think staying in and resting is a vacation. You must get out and enjoy the experience not coop yourself up all the day in a tiny little room." Mary looked behind her as though she expected someone to be listening in the empty hallway. "Which reminds me, Charles and I have decided not to stay here next week. It is not very roomy. And I always feel as though I have to stop and chat with the…well, you know." She was whispering as she stood in the doorframe. "I am sure we have stayed here long enough to be polite, but I am used to something more refined." Mary straightened her sage and royal blue-striped top and looked up to see Anne, unmoved, leaning against the door.

"I plan to go out again with you and the rest of the party to the lighthouse. Until then, I will take my siesta."

"Suit yourself," Mary shrugged and took herself down the hall.

Anne's head touched the pillow, and a small moan escaped her. Her arms and legs were weary with lack of rest. Poor Mary. She hated to leave her by her lonesome. Mary was such a social body, ever excited to be conversing with others, and always wanting some novel venture. The luxurious softness of the bed cajoled her muscles into relaxing. Never mind Mary. She would be well.

The mid-day light shone through the cream-colored curtains in its brightest tints, but it did not provoke the sleeping girl into wakefulness. Her parched body drank deeply of that much-needed draught of slumber.

A timid knock awoke her in the late afternoon. "Anne?" Henrietta called through the closed portal in hushed tones. Anne got up and went to the door.

"Mary said that you might want to go to the lighthouse with us."

"Oh, I do. Is it time to leave already?"

"Yes, my brother and the others have returned."

"I will be down presently." Anne took a moment to comb her hair and cleanse her face. Refreshed, she owned that the situation did not seem nearly as bleak as she had viewed it that morning. The countenance that met her in the mirror as she turned to leave surprised the woman. Her face displayed a healthier radiance. Her long lashes looked fuller, her dark eyes shone clearly, and the coral tint had returned to her lips. Walking down the stairs, she espied Benwick sitting in a decorative chair in the foyer. "Has everyone gone on?"

"Yes. I hope you don't mind that I volunteered to drive you."

"Not at all. I thank you."

Benwick opened the door for her graciously. He seemed very eager to be of service but did not introduce any conversation as they made their way to his car.

Once in the vehicle, Anne asked him about the morning's outing. "It was enjoyable. Charles and Frederik were very entertaining. They were quite competitive on the course. I understand they played together in California before they came?"

Anne acknowledged that she had the same information. She was taken aback at Benwick's next question. "What do you think of Frederik?"

She had hardly time to consider what to respond when he went on to say in a musing manner, "I think he has changed since I last saw him. I think this theatrical work has been a bad business, for he is not as lighthearted as I remember him from our trips. Certainly, he was always a serious sort." He turned to look sidewise at Anne adding, "Very serious about his music, as you witnessed yesterday. But I gather there is a great deal on him to see that this musical of his fares well."

"I would assume that it would be quite a burden to have a performance of such great reputation brought to a country where it might float or sink with the whim of the viewer," reasoned Anne. "Especially when you consider this pivotal score he has agreed to rework."

"Ah, yes. That is undoubtedly the thing that causes my friend to be so distant this visit."

Anne could not help but desire to ask how Frederik had been distant, but she dared not. She told herself that it would not be expedient for her to know more.

"I do hope you will enjoy the view from the lighthouse. It is very breathtaking." At Anne's positive syllable of response, Benwick stated. "I have only toured it once, when we first moved here. You know, I lived with Harville for a couple of months in their home further inland. Once his injury prevented him from working on the cruise-lines, he beseeched me to come and assist him. I am sure his reasons for inviting me had more to do with his concern over my welfare. Yet, I have enjoyed my time with the Harvilles. They are quite a family, are they not?"

Anne agreed readily. "They are very good. I do not think I have met any like as they."

Benwick smiled and nodded. "I do not know how it will be when I leave them." The woman beside him looked questioningly at his profile. He noted it and explained, "Not that I have any intentions of going at this time. I just know that the time is coming when I must take my leave and be on my own again." He changed the subject rather abruptly. "Do you think that I might like New York?"

Again, his question had found her unprepared to answer. Yet, he waited for her response. "I am not sure. It is certain that the city is not of the pace of this one. No, it is not so relaxed. And there are times when I find that in the mass of people, I am alone. While I am grateful for time to myself, too much time might be hard when-"

"If you were there, I would not be alone. Would I, Anne?" The statement took on such a definite meaning that she did not dare to respond. Fortunately, they were turning off the road, and Benwick did not await her reply.

Lightly, he stated, "I hope we won't be too far behind the others."

From their position Anne could see the tall monument, a figure that through night and day had kept the sailors of a time long-passed from the shore's treacherous shoals.

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**A/N: (To the toddler tune: **_**If You're Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands)**_

**If you really like this story, Please review!**

**If you really like this chapter, Please review!**

**If you really want the writer**

**To update a real nail-biter**

**If you only like this **_**song**_** then, Please review!**

**Ana-Misa: Remember in ch 31 Erik said, "**_**I promise you that under my guidance you will not only conquer it, but it will become one of your signature pieces.**_**" He was keeping his promise. I hope you can understand why he pushed Anne away; she is not really the object of his anger, though neither of them knows that in ch 35. Remember that it is the current timeframe that instigates the dream. You are right that she is suppressing her emotions, and they have surfaced through the flashbacks, the emotional attachment to the scarf, and now, the "white night." Yes, as you have seen from 36, she is trying to exorcize her memories of him from the current Frederik Wentworth. Poor thing, she's trying to deal, but having to see him daily isn't helping any. Your input is so helpful! Thanks!**

**followthestory: First, you absolutely took my breath away with your analysis. "Whose love was truer?" Brava! The answer will come. Two other points: 1) How many other girls have seen him w/out his mask? Obviously, he's not experienced w/ how to react. 2) Oh, we are both welcoming the hunk Raoul with open arms! (Grin)**


	38. Lighthouse Revelations

**A/N: The lighthouse in this work is a compilation of different structures, and is not the meant to be modeled after any specific building.**

Chapter 38

They entered the cylindrical building to begin their ascent. From the floor, the stairway was a winding passageway of rock along the walls of the lighthouse. Old-fashioned iron lanterns hung down from poles driven into the undersides of the rock stairs at intervals. The stairs, winding ever upwards and becoming more narrow with each turn, allowed the bars with their lanterns to extend out over the railing making its illumination like a decorative trim as one looked up from the center.

As they neared the half-way point of the climb, Anne could make out Louisa's exclamations above her. "I think we are not far behind," she stated to the Captain. The man made no move to hurry forward, so Anne matched her pace to his.

"Do you see those deep sills in the stone?" he asked, referring to the large windows that allowed a small amount of light to enter the building at infrequent posts along the way. "I should think they would do very little on their own."

"And yet, they bring a very friendly aspect to the place, I think."

He stopped on a step and looked toward the window within view. "Yes, that is right. You see," he turned to the small woman, "I have you to thank for giving me a new perspective. Whereas I looked upon it as dreariness, you see it as friendly. I see hopelessness where you see encouragement to grow and learn." He shook his head and continued upward.

They reached a plateau but did not rest on the bench there. The voices of their party were becoming more distinct. The stairway narrowed, and there were no more niches in which to find rest; they were compelled to continue to the top. Finally, they reached the tourists in the tiny service room just below the great lantern above. Mary was seated in a corner with her head in her hands as Charles stood over her attentively.

At Anne's inquiry, Louisa stated, "She went out on the balcony. We told her she should not have, but she wouldn't listen."

"I didn't want to be alone here while you went up to see the view! Oh, sister! Don't go up there. It is -," Mary sighed. "I am trying to get my bearings."

Charles, his hand on her shoulder, stated loyally. "She's been a brave one. Even from this height many might not have continued."

Anne now stepped onto the platform. Before, she had only rested on the step to take in the crowded room her sister and the others inhabited. The moment her frame reached the level of the room, she felt the opposing winds that tore through the open windows on three sides of her. It was a gusty pull, even from the enclosed area. She could imagine that the force above was much stronger.

"I am sure the whole lighthouse tilted when I was holding the rail. I felt I would plunge to my death!" Mary said to her husband then bent her head to her hands again.

Anne noticed the smile that was shared between Louisa and her sister. If Mary was hoping for sympathy, she would not receive it from Charles' sisters.

"Do you think you can start down the steps now, my dear?" Charles asked her. He took her arm and wrapped it in his own as she stood up.

"I will try," she answered pitifully, "but my knees are still shaking."

"There's a sport," her husband encouraged as she began to walk toward the railing.

"Oh," she braced herself against the iron bar. "No, no. I think I shall sit a bit more. You may all go on without me. I will be fine, really." Her pleading eyes bespoke a different message to Anne.

"I will stay with you," the older sister volunteered.

"You haven't seen the view, yet," interposed Benwick.

"Yes, Anne. Go on and take it in. I will stay with Mary." Charles whispered some tender question to his wife who responded with a slight affirmative. "You three go on. We will meet up with you outside," he told his sisters and Frederik.

The Captain led Anne onto the balcony. The wind was exhilarating. "You will not faint, will you?" he asked in her ear. His proximity to her startled the woman, yet she knew that the wind was so strong it was either that or he must raise his voice into that gale force around them. She turned and spoke loudly into the wind. "I think it is breathtaking!" The seascape was patched with land in places, but the water beyond went on endlessly. She grasped the rail and looked down. The experience gave her head a dizzying sensation, but she looked to the sea again and smiled.

"Have you ever been…"

"What?" she asked. The wind was whisking his voice away before she could understand his words. She turned to look at his mouth as he spoke again. She shook her head; she could not understand. Benwick gestured to her to go back into the shelter of the structure. She followed him in.

"I said, 'Have you even been on a cruise-ship?'"

"No, never."

"I think you would enjoy it." He was smiling at her in a very strange way. It occurred to the woman that his manner hinted at his becoming truly besotted with her. She did not know how she should feel about it but quickly moved toward the service room to check on Mary. Her sister was still the same, but Charles was kneeling next to her now. He motioned to the two of them to continue down the stairs but not before another group of strangers passed between them, heading for the lantern.

As Anne began the narrow descent with Benwick behind her, she heard Mary say to Charles, "And there goes Anne, now. I do want to try to make it." A third of the way down, Anne could see Louisa and Frederik. Henrietta was walking ahead, but Louisa was in Frederik's arms as he jumped her down to the next landing. She walked on, her hand outstretched to touch his shoulder as they continued to the next flight of stairs.

As Benwick and she came to the landing, Anne felt tired and took a bench under a window. The sight of Frederik and Louisa, she told herself, truly did not trouble her; but she felt annoyed for having to remind herself of its inconsequence.

Benwick sat down with a sigh. "It's a bit of a challenge, isn't it? Too many stairs. We should have taken the elevator." The woman beside him laughed, and he caught her eye.

"The wind and exercise do you good, you know. Your face is flushed."

"Is it?" she asked as he reached out to touch her cheek. In that instant, she knew; he was going to attempt some gesture of affection if she did not move. She put her hands on her cheeks and got up from the bench. She gripped the rail and started the descent to the next level.

"Where are you going?" Benwick asked. His voice sounded intrigued, which concerned her. She did not wish to give him a false impression of her interest in him. For, though she felt very fond of him in so short an acquaintance, she knew she did not love him in such a way as his actions fervently displayed. She doubted she would feel such a regard for anyone again.

Passing down the steps, Anne came to her decision. It would do no good to allow him to behave foolishly if she did not feel the same. Yet something made her question her resolve. What if this chance meeting with James Benwick had happened for a purpose? Was her heart too closed to see it? She ached for companionship, and she certainly felt some affection for the man. If she allowed it of herself, could that fondness develop into a deeper regard? He was catching up to her.

"Anne, wait! I want to talk to you."

She considered going on but stopped herself, realizing that it was not the time to run away. She must face this situation; she must face this young man in all sincerity. She would be honest with her feelings, listen to him openly, and see what would come of it. She had stopped in mid-flight two levels from the ground and was holding the railing overlooking the center of the structure.

"Louisa, what are you doing?" From below, Frederik's voice spoke with a tinge of alarm.

She looked over the iron rail as Louisa's figure, running back up the steps, came into view below. "Oh, sister… Please!" cried out Henrietta. Anne could see Frederik, as he walked towards the center at the base of the lighthouse. Louisa was quickly climbing over the rail, some seven or eight feet from the ground.

"What is happening?" asked Benwick, reaching Anne's side.

"Louisa, the jump is too steep," Frederik warned. He moved toward her in a way that professed he did not think she would do it.

"Please don't, Louisa," Henrietta entreated her.

"I shall. Now catch me!" stated the determined woman.

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**A/N: Yeah, me and my wicked cliffhangers.**

**Ana-Misa: Ha! It didn't even occur to me that the scarf would have any part in her farewell. Interesting idea! No, she wasn't saying goodbye to Frederik, but the Erik of the past. I'm writing about New York right now. (grin)**

**Momotaru: Whoo hoo! I'm so excited you are hooked on my story. Thank you!! I sincerely hope that I will be able to finish it and keep up its angst-y momentum for you.**

**followthestory: What you feel about Erik vs. Frederik is exactly how Anne feels. Frederik is too distant, even Benwick comments on this in ch. 37. Anne knows she doesn't have a right to know Frederik's thoughts. She would be hurting Louisa if she brought it up. So, thank you; your excellent review has convinced me that I have to keep writing so you will know all. ******

**Lady Susan: I feel so honored, because I adore your **_**Childhood Impressions**_** fic. Thanks!**


	39. Dormant Memories

Chapter 39

"Oh!" Anne gasped; for, as Louisa jumped from the step, her head hit the lantern dangling inches above. The contact with the metal was hard enough to turn the position of the falling woman. Frederik, springing forward too late to catch her, could not have foreseen the direction she would take. Her arms reached out to him mid-fall, but she never saw the jutting step with which the side of her head collided. The sound was ominous: not a thud, but a popping quality. The crash of the glass plates of the lantern followed. Swiftly, Anne was racing forward, down the steps. The rest were frozen, staring at the unconscious woman lying at the base of the lighthouse.

"Don't move her!" she called out, afraid the woman's position might be altered and the situation made more dangerous. "Benwick, call for an ambulance!"

As Anne reached the third stair from the bottom, Henrietta, who had not left the base of it, crumpled onto her. She tried to lift her but could not. She slowly fell back onto the steps as the weight of the fainting girl came full upon her. Through the bars, she saw Frederik as he fell to his knees beside the body of a prostrate Louisa Musgrove amidst the glass fragments from the lamp. He was in shock, staring down at the female with her soft brown hair around her face. Anne knew he was reliving those last few moments with his mother. She had to pull him out of those dark thoughts.

Instinctively, she called to him. "Erik." He looked up at her and their eyes met. "Help me move Henrietta."

As though he were in a trance, he lifted himself from the floor and walked around to help her. He gently picked up the girl's weight and shifted her so that she might lean against the wall.

Anne, once freed, raced to Louisa's side, felt her wrist, and listened for her breathing. The heartbeat was strong. "She lives," she told Frederik, who was positioning Henrietta's head against the step carefully.

"She lives," he repeated in a distant voice.

A couple moved down the stair, but Frederik did not seem to be aware of them as they passed. As the couple made their way around him, Anne asked, "Would you please tell security that someone has fallen and needs medical assistance immediately?"

"What has happened?" Mary's voice resounded from four flights above. Anne did not answer her.

"Frederik," she addressed him, but he did not respond. She knew she had to get him out of the building, away from the scene awakening his dormant memories. "I need you to go and watch for the paramedics." The man did not move.

She came around the railing and placed her small hands on the sides of his face, raising his face to look at her. "Erik." It was stated ever so tenderly. Reality came to him. He got up and went to the door. Then he stopped and looked back at Louisa.

He turned to Anne with a pained expression and spoke; his lips hardly moved. "Christine, what have I done?"

Henrietta was coming to, and Anne turned to look away. His words were like a jolt of electricity to her mind, but the situation took the sensation from her quickly.

"They are minutes from here," Benwick stated, out-of-breath, as he came down the last flight.

"Oh!" came Mary's cry of surprise when she was able to see the body of the woman lying below. "Louisa!" Until she reached the bottom step, Mary did nothing but cry out shrilly.

"Don't touch her, Mary. It could be detrimental," commanded Charles, who made his way down to Louisa just as his wife reached the unconscious woman.

"Well, we can't just leave her lying here!"

He was checking her pulse. "She will remain here until we have the medical team to transport her."

Charles asked Benwick and Anne the particulars as Henrietta lay with her head on the small woman's shoulder looking dazed.

"Brother, there was a horrible crack when her head hit the step," she whispered once and then was silent.

Moments later the paramedics arrived, and Louisa was borne away to the hospital. The woman never opened her eyes.

The drive to the hospital with Mary, Charles, and Henrietta was distressing. Charles said not a word, and his wife never quit speaking.

"She won't die, will she?"

"What exactly is a contusion?"

"Did the skull actually break?"

"Mary," Anne stated calmly. "We are not sure what has happened to Louisa."

Mary, between sobs, began to console Henrietta. "I am so glad it wasn't you, my dear. Though I wish it had not happened at all. It must have been awful to watch your sister."

Henrietta stated that it was and was almost persuaded by Mary to retell the whole tale, but Charles turned back to look at her angrily. "I do not wish to hear the accident recounted. We are going to the hospital; we will know more then."

"I was only-"

"Mary…" he looked at her warningly. His wife flopped back upon the seat in tearful frustration. She said not another word, though she cried noisily.

While a CT scan was administered, the family and friends stood together in the waiting area. Frederik and Benwick, and then the Harvilles arrived shortly after Louisa's relatives. They looked anxiously at one another and felt the graveness of the situation. Louisa might not make it through the night, and she was miles away from her parents.

Frederik spoke with conviction. "Someone must tell her mother and father."

"Yes, Charles. You should call them," agreed Mary.

"I do not believe this is a matter which should be handled over the phone," Frederik stated. "I've already contacted the pilot and made arrangements. I think it would be best if someone took the jet tonight and delivered the message himself."

Charles took Frederik's words as an implication that the duty rested on his shoulders. "While I would wish to inform my parents personally, I can not leave Louisa as matters stand."

"Would you be averse to my going and breaking the news to them?" offered the musician. "After all, your mother entrusted the two of them to my care." Anne turned to look at Frederik. His face was clouded over with concern. She sensed that his was a guilt-induced request.

The physician entered the room. The entire party stood up, but it was Charles and Frederik who met the doctor. "There is a good amount of intracranial pressure at the site. There may be a small linear fracture, but it is very minute. We will monitor through the night for signs of a hematoma."

"Is she conscious?"

"Not at present, but you may go in to see her." A nurse soon came to lead Charles back. Mary took Henrietta's arm and gestured for Anne to go with them. Frederik, with a somber expression, did not follow but continued to pace. Once they made it to Louisa's room, the nineteen-year-old would not enter therein. "I can't," she whispered, terrified. "Please, I can't see her like that."

Anne put her arm around the girl and stayed in the hall to comfort her. It was some time before Charles returned to the hall and told them, "She opened her eyes."

"Is she conscious?" asked Anne, anxiously.

"No, but she opened her eyes for a moment."

He headed back the way he had come, and Henrietta did not move to follow. Mary came out of the room with tears rolling down her cheeks. "The poor, poor thing. She looks so…so…"

"Charles said she opened her eyes," expressed Anne, trying to dwell on the good with Henrietta beside her.

"Yes, but she did not recognize us and immediately closed them again. Charles spoke to her, but she did not respond." Mary sighed woefully. "Do you want to go in and see her, Henrietta? I will take you."

"No," the girl put herself behind the small, dark-haired woman as though she were shielding herself from her sister-in-law.

"Do you want to go back and sit with the others?" Anne asked her gently. Henrietta was undecided until Mary asserted that they would soon be taking Louisa to be x-rayed. She opted to return to the waiting room.

Charles had reentered the hallway. He was accompanied by Frederik, who walked straight up to the three sorrowful women. "I was just telling your husband that I would be happy to take you and Henrietta back to California," he said to Mary. "I think you can be of more comfort than I, when I-"

"I am not going back!" Mary stated, incredulously. "You may take Henrietta, but I am staying here."

"No, I will stay as well," averred the youngest female.

"Henrietta," gestured Charles and pulled his sister aside to speak with her privately.

"Anne, will you stay with Louisa through the night?" Frederik turned to ask of her. Truly, she would have loved nothing more than to be by the woman's bed to watch over her care and notify others of any progress. But his intense gaze caused her to hesitate in her response. "Someone will need to watch her, and I believe you would be…"

He paused, which gave time for Mary to retort, "I don't see why I should leave! I am a sister to her; what is Anne? Why should she stay, and I have to go?"

Charles and his sister returned to the three who were consulting on what was to be done. Henrietta was crying quietly as her brother held her shoulders. "Henrietta will go back with you, Frederik. It will be a comfort to my parents to have her home, I know. Will you not go with her, Mary?"

"I am sure you will want to see your children," attempted Frederik.

"I don't see how you could think I would possibly desire to leave under these circumstances!" Mary's voice was uncontrolled in her protestations.

Realizing the situation, Anne came to Henrietta's side. The girl had no qualms about being escorted back toward the waiting room. As she neared the door out of the hallway, Anne distinctly heard Frederik say to Charles, "I think Anne should stay. She has shown herself to be quite capable in this crisis. There is no one else who is so suited to stay with Louisa."

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**Ana-Misa: You brought up a very good point about the week-two week inconsistency. Anne planned to return on her own after a week to get back to Valeria; I never made that clear. Not that it matters after this chapter. (I plan to fix it anyway; thanks for the heads-up.) Yes, you caught the irony about what was soon to occur in the lighthouse. Ever the brilliant analyst!**

**Reader and Anon: Glad you both liked the song!**

**followthestory: Ah, picked up on the sleep problems; another symptom of Anne's depression and turmoil. You are right; it is not canon for Anne to let her emotions boil over. But, this is A "Lyrical" Persuasion, so feelings are going to be more intense, and so might the reactions to them. Okay, I gotta tell you, your words were uncanny. You are too close in some of your sentiments regarding a chapter I am in the process of writing. How do you do that?**

**Momotaru: I'm hurrying, and thanks.**

**lina: I agree: somebody smack Mary already. She's just getting worse! Oh, and your sense of smell is pretty keen.**

**Lady Susan: Cool! Thanks.**

**Misty Breyer: You'll have to excuse me; I'm having a difficult time typing this because my head is now ten times bigger. It's nice to know the effort is appreciated, and my fanfic is loved. sigh So glad you found it, and reviewed!! Many, many thanks.**


	40. His Burden of Guilt

**A/N: 101 reviews! Whoo hoo! Thanks for making the writing of this story so enjoyable by taking the time to encourage a little scribbler. Your efforts are truly appreciated.**

**Here is the additional chapter:**

Chapter 40

The door had closed behind them, and Anne sat down with Henrietta. She did not wish to read anything into Frederick's words that she would be the most suitable to stay with Louisa, though the sentiments had amazed her. The other occupants in the room looked sympathetic as Harville came over to them. "If there is anything we can do…," Anne was shaking her head sadly as Frederik entered. She looked to him, feeling the turmoil of his emotions. His face was livid as he walked up to Harville.

"You will accompany Henrietta," he said abruptly to her. "We must go back to get your things." Harville volunteered to drive them, and his wife rose to state, "I will stay here with Charles and his wife, in case they should need something." Anne thanked her as Mrs. Harville hugged them both. They said a brief farewell to Benwick, from whom hardly a word had been heard since he'd reached the hospital. His expression told how greatly shaken he was over the matter.

Mrs. Harville had called ahead to one of her housekeepers to pack a late repast for the flight. Though Henrietta could hardly stand to enter the room she had shared with Louisa, the two women soon departed from the hospitable inn. Escorted from the house by Harville and Frederik, Anne found solace in the knowledge that the Harvilles' solicitousness was a balm to the family. She looked at Frederik as they drove to meet the plane. His serious expression displayed his preoccupation of thought. She did not know what he must be feeling. The woman with whom he had formed a very favorable acquaintance was now lying unconscious in the hospital, and, should she live, might never fully recover her faculties.

Frederik took every opportunity of making Henrietta comfortable on the trip back. Had it not been for the girl's request that she sit with her, Anne would have felt extremely unwelcome. From the moment they boarded the jet, Frederik had not offered her any kind remark. He bestowed his attentions only on Louisa's sister. Anne felt his stand-offish attitude, having been so opposite to the praise he had expressed to Charles of her value in staying with Louisa. She now perceived that, whereas he deemed her of inestimable benefit at the side of his beloved, she was a cause of irritation to him on that impromptu journey to California.

In vain did Anne wish that Mary had yielded to the requests that she return with Henrietta. Had her sister been more compliant, Anne could have been of use not only to the ailing woman and her family, but also in giving Frederik's mind some portion of ease.

He apologized to Henrietta once that his actions had been so negligent to her sister. The girl was very forgiving. Yet she did not in the least comprehend that he truly felt himself to blame, nor that her response only made the poor man suffer a deeper sense of guilt. Anne wished heartily that she might say some word to bring him to understand that Louisa's state was not entirely a matter to be laid at his feet.

It was true that he had encouraged her willful tendencies. She wondered now whether the man might see that such determination, for which he had had such open admiration, could be cultivated to an unhealthy degree. What did he think of such immovable purpose of heart now? Surely his eyes were open to its shortcomings. Yet, she could not rejoice in his undisguised dejectedness of manner.

The weather was favorable, and she was surprised to find that the plane was soon to land. Anne did not attempt to rouse Henrietta. It was nearing midnight by California time, and if the girl was finally in some semblance of slumber, she should not be awakened until the last possible moment. Frederik, so close to her in proximity, was miles away in thought. Or so she assumed. It astonished her greatly when he spoke above the hum of the aircraft as it gradually began its descent.

"I saw my mother…when she… It was incredibly real." He did not look at her as he spoke. His face was almost completely hidden from her view. He slowly turned, and she could view his profile as he passionately asked, "What if she dies?" He said it as though the reality of it had hit him fully.

What could she say? She did not know the words to comfort him. After some minutes, he looked upon her and saw that she had comprehended his broken speech. Her dark eyes looked to his with such feeling, a spirit of true sympathy reaching through them.

They sat in that immutable silence for some time before he spoke again. His demeanor had taken a more resolved and decisive air. "I have been thinking. When we reach the house, don't you think it best if I enter first to break the news to them? It will give them alarm; that is something I can not change. But, perhaps, if I give them time to comprehend the true state of matters without the younger child to comfort simultaneously… What is your opinion?"

Anne agreed that it would not only be less painful for Dr. and Mrs. Musgrove but easier on Henrietta's nerves, as well. For, to be overcome with the fragile state of one of their daughters while realizing the other was in peril might be infinitely worse.

As they transferred themselves to the waiting taxi cab, Anne had time to consider Frederik's deference to her judgment. Though the situation did not give her enough time to analyze its intent, she was able to glean from it no small pleasure. It was a true sign of his esteem that he had applied to her for concurrence regarding the efficacy of his plan.

As Anne escorted a tired, shaken Henrietta into her home after awaiting Frederik's direction, she was graciously thanked and bountifully wept upon. She looked to Frederik for his response to this highly emotional state of the household. He stood somewhat aloof from the circle of the three Musgroves, who had, consequently, enveloped Anne into their sorrowing huddle. The man, looking on, wore such an intense expression. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern and disquiet.

When Mrs. Musgrove offered Anne a room where she could put her things and try for a few hours of rest, she turned to make the same gesture to Frederik. Immediately, he prevented the woman from continuing. "I will not be staying. I must return tonight."

Dr. Musgrove looked alarmed. "But, man, you must sleep."

"I'll sleep on the plane."

"But you must have supper. Let the help prepare-,"

"No," he interrupted sharply. Then, looking kindly upon Mrs. Musgrove, he added, "I thank you. I shall need nothing. Farewell, Dr. and Mrs. Musgrove…Henrietta. Goodbye, Anne."

Anne tilted her head in a gentle adieu as he addressed her, compassion playing softly on her features, as he withdrew through the front door of the house. Pity engulfed the woman's heart for the man. She had no doubt that the release of Henrietta into the care of her parents had not, in any way, given the man a reprieve from his guilt. His eyes had bespoken his pain in watching the homecoming and witnessing the distress of Henrietta's mother.

Anne gladly accepted the Musgroves' invitation that she stay as a guest in the Grand Manor. She felt she would be needed during the tumultuous days ahead. Henrietta and her mother went off to get what rest they could procure; they would not be separated. Dr. Musgrove called his son and paced the floor of his study.

When Anne could perceive that her aid was no longer desired, she went up to the room prepared for her. As she lay in the large bed, quietly trying to find a restful corner of her mind to lull her into a semblance of repose, Frederik's words came to her again.

_What if she dies?_

What if Louisa did die? The consequences of such a thought were too harsh for her to conceive. She tried to remove the vision of the bereaved Musgrove family from her cogitations. It would be too unendurable for them to bear. She scolded herself for having dwelt on such despair. It accomplished no good thing. Her mind reviewed the sorrow-worn expression of Frederik's countenance as he had removed himself from the Musgrove home. He was suffering more acutely under the tragic circumstance than she.

Should the woman die, would he consider his actions as having effectuated her accident? It would not be the first time he had felt himself to blame in the death of another. He lived continually with the guilt of what his feelings had been before the accident that took his mother and father from him. Suddenly, an occurrence, which had been hidden in the recesses of her memory, now thrust itself to the forefront of her musings: the death of the gardener, Joe Buquet.

_Christine's mind could barely fathom that this would be the last time she would come to the rooms under the opera hall, their last lesson. He led her toward the back door and stepped aside for her to proceed. She walked out of the doorway in disbelief, turning to climb to the next level, but stopped. He continued to hold the door so that the light would aid her. It was the thought of never seeing him again that gave her back her tongue. She turned her flashlight on the doorway and asked, "Will I see you again?"_

_He did not respond but bowed his head. He would not look at her._

"_Oh, Erik. Don't do this."_

"_One day you will know why it has to be this way."_

"_What way? That we must separate because your face is – the way it is? That you refuse to believe that I can still love you even though I was startled by your appearance? Look here! Look at me. I love you, Erik Wentworth! I love you, and it will always be so." Her throat was contending with a lump which refused to be swallowed. She watched him and followed the movement of his deep eyelids, which slowly closed as though pained to hear her words._

"_Oh, Christine." His shoulders hunched over as if he were under an extremely heavy burden. "It has never been my intention to hurt you, but to protect you. As much as I have wished it, my appearance – my very existence! - hinders me from giving you the life you desire._"

"_I'm not asking you to give me any thing but one: your love."_

"_It has been yours all along." His words were hushed. "I have tried to compel myself to reason; yet I must love you with every breath."_

_She walked toward the open doorway again, still too uncertain to smile at his admission. Her eyes asked a hundred questions, but they would not be answered._

_From the area underneath the stage came the hollow sound of wood cracking and giving way under some pressing weight. It rang out along the spears of metal surrounding them. Both turned to look toward the origin of the echo._

"_Help! Help me!" came the pleas of a male voice._

"_It's that gardener. He's come through the trap-door under the stage floor."_

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**Ana-Misa: I never thought about the "not afraid" comparisons, though I was trying to show her adventuresome spirit. Cool! Did you notice the determined versus obstinate musings in this chapter? So very close to your own thoughts, were they not? grins**

**full0fgrace: Yeah, you're right. It was more of a "lighthouse-hanger" than a cliff hanger. (That was awful, I know.) NY is on its way, but don't be in too much of a hurry. Things must take their course.**

**Misty Breyer: I agree: poor Benwick. Thanks!**

**followthestory: What an amazing compliment! Thank you! My imagination gets me into trouble sometimes because it tends to complicate things. That's why I love having a framework to reign me in. I think I can understand your feelings on Raoul vs. Frederik, but I'm not sure I know who you want Anne to end up with.**

**Momotaru: I can't help but throw in a cliffhanger here and there; it's fun. Thanks again!**

**Ginger: Glad you found my story, and thanks! Yeah, Frederik is an enigma on many levels.**


	41. The Trapdoor Mystery

Chapter 41

"_Can he escape?" Christine wondered aloud, more concerned that Joe Buquet would find Erik's abode than with the gardener's welfare._

"_No, I've enclosed that area."_

"_Help me..." The cry was weaker._

"_He may be hurt. I need to go to him."_

"_How can we do that?" she asked, fearfully._

"_Follow me."_

_She followed him up onto the roof of his home and traced his steps between the beams. He was leading her by an unfamiliar route. It seemed that they were gliding away from the gardener's clamors rather than toward him. Then she espied the wall of the rooms under the chapel._

"_Why are we going-," she began to question._

"_We are not going. You are. I want you to go back to your room quickly. Do not show yourself to anyone, do you understand?"_

"_Yes, but-" He pressed his hand against her cheek, and she closed her eyes in the ecstasy of his loving touch._

"_I love you, Christine. Just do as I say, and don't return until I communicate with you to do so."_

"_But, how?" The panel was already closing, and she turned from the wall to make her way to the stairs ascending to the chapel. She would do as Erik said. He loved her, and he would protect her. _

_Thereafter, she took to the outer gallery, which encompassed the walls of the opera hall, cautiously keeping away from the windows. She wished to circumvent the stage, in case her footsteps would be heard. She did not allow her legs to slow their pace, until she was clear of the building. _

_But what about Joe Buquet? Would he be well? Surely Erik would rescue him from the recess underneath the stage. Of all who knew that building, Erik was the most adept at finding a solution to extract the old gardener. If Buquet hadn't been so nosey, it probably would never have happened! What had he been doing on the stage at that hour? She scolded herself for such unsympathetic judgment. The man was trapped and possibly injured. But all would be well. Erik would see to that._

_The next morning the entire school was abuzz regarding the death of Joe Buquet. The opera house had been cordoned off, and no one was allowed to go near it. The authorities were investigating the accident, she was told. She listened to the rumors and tried to ascertain the truth. She did not dare ask too many questions for fear a slip of her tongue might betray her or, more importantly, Erik._

_It was commonly voiced that the old gardener's body had been found next to a faulty plank of flooring which had once been the trap-door of the stage. There were various tools surrounding the area. It looked as though the man had been working to pry open the planks, had mishandled his weight, and had fallen through. But the fact that he was discovered on the stage above the small enclosure had the investigators confounded. Some said that Buquet had been pulled up by a rope. But there was no rope to be found in the vicinity. There was also an unsubstantiated rumor that an anonymous caller had given information to the man's whereabouts the night before._

_The most condemning evidence had even Christine troubled. Joe Buquet's injury was slight: a broken leg. There seemed to be no other injury on the man, with the exception of a few scrapes which, it was speculated, he received coming through the floorboards. Yet, the man was dead. An autopsy, performed soon thereafter, declared that his heart had stopped._

_It seemed the probable cause of his demise; the man had not been young. But it still did not explain the position in which they had found the poor gardener. Valeria Russell, having arrived for her visit with Anne, immediately sequestered the girl in her room to ask what she knew. Anne, her heart full of concern for the lonely soul beneath the building, told all in the hopes that Valeria would pity his situation. Yet, the godmother used the information to attempt to form misgivings in the young woman about the character of the man._

"_You do not know what happened with Joe Buquet. Erik told you to leave the premises. Why would he do that, Anne? Why did he not solicit your assistance?"_

_When Anne could give no answer, Valeria continued. "He did not want witnesses."_

"_Witnesses to what?"_

"_Oh, Anne. You are so fortunate to have gotten away when you did. He was very taken with you; I saw that at our meeting. You do not know what his plans may have been. Be thankful you are safe."_

"_Oh, no, Leri! He is not like that."_

"_How do you know?"_

"_I just do!" Anne's rebuttal held an amazing determination within it. Valeria's attempts took another avenue._

"_You know that if you try to go to him now, you put him in danger. They will find him, and they will not doubt his involvement."_

"_But he didn't do anything!" _

_Valeria was shaking her head at her. "He is very persuasive. I can see that."_

_Anne could see from the look on the older woman's face that she was contemplating some measure to take. "What are you thinking?"_

"_Anne, I want you to be safe." She looked at her godchild, considering what she should reveal of her thoughts. She sighed. "I think that I should tell the authorities about Erik-,"_

"_NO!"_

"_I will not tell them of your involvement, my dear."_

"_I am not concerned with that; I am concerned with what befalls Erik." Valeria looked upon her hesitantly; and Anne, reaching to touch her arm, spoke to convince her not to carry out her decision. "You mustn't. I will do anything…" Then, in her desperation, she said the words she could not recant once they had flown from her lips. "I will not see him again. Only, you must promise me that you will keep silent."_

_Valeria Russell pursed her lips, yet the lines across her brow faded. "Very well. I will hold you to that promise."_

_A quiet, yet sorrowful, look of resolve spread across the young girl's face. "I know you will."_

Anne found the Grand Manor an eccentric mixture of hushed anxiety and perpetual anticipation. The phone rang at intervals, and Dr. Musgrove had taken to answering it himself, so impatient was he to know and give the true account of matters. The servants were in a state of chaos as well, having been told not to serve breakfast, then later instructed to serve the meal; for Anne, as their guest, might need something. Then, a short time later, the help was once again required to furnish some light repast for the family who, going without sleep and finding an idle moment, suddenly found themselves very hungry.

Valeria Russell was at the door at noon, having heard the news from Elizabeth. It seemed that Mary had found the time to call and converse with her eldest sister that very morning, of all days.

"Is there anything I can do to be of assistance?" Mrs. Russell asked, concernedly. Her sympathetic manner elicited the relation of the whole story. Since much of it she already knew, her eyes constantly strayed from the sorrowful faces of those who made the effort to apprise her of the situation. Yet, she found no sign of Anne.

The small woman had been busy with Mary's boys. The nanny, Sara, had brought them over for the morning to visit their grandmother and had not been privy to the horrific event of the day before. Anne tried to quiet the excited chatter of the boys. For, having been delightfully surprised by the return of their aunt, they deemed that it was as good a time as any to inform her of all of their latest excursions and doings in her absence. Finally, it was decided that the boys would return immediately to their own abode with Anne having been pressed to give her word that she would visit them later in the day to participate in a good game of their choosing.

When, finally, Anne was able to join the family, her heart failed at seeing Valeria Russell with them. Yet she smiled at her affectionately and allowed the rest of the communication from Dr. Musgrove to be told her. She knew the thought that provoked her to feel less than delighted in the presence of her godmother was Valeria's awareness that Frederik Wentworth had been one of the party on the excursion to Florida.

Would Valeria express her disappointment at Anne's attempt at concealment? She recognized the inconsequence of such a thought. Why should she be influenced by her godmother's reaction? She was her own woman; she needed no approval from her friend. Yet she felt sheepishly reserved in her conversation when Valeria pulled her aside to speak sometime thereafter.

"Are you well, Anne?" To her goddaughter's nodding response, she continued. "What a business this has been! I could hardly believe it when I received the call this morning."

"I am sorry that I did not inform you from the first, but it was imperative that we prepared for the travel back last night. I did not dare to awaken you when we arrived! And, I must own, I hardly knew what I was about. It all occurred so swiftly."

"Oh, I do not blame you. You needed to recuperate from such a shock." It was then that Valeria was silent, and Anne perceived that it was the moment when Mr. Wentworth's name should be brought forth. But Anne could not refer to him. Every phrase that introduced itself to her mind seemed weak or too unnatural to speak. Her godmother disregarded the tense silence and continued. "I understood from Elizabeth that Louisa's prognosis is good."

"Yes, that is the news we were told earlier this morning. It is believed that, when the swelling abates, she will not be in any danger."

"Let us hope that it continues to be the case." The younger woman beside her agreed. In consequence, Mrs. Russell mused, "I should wonder at her obstinacy in continuing to act on such a senseless notion. For I believe I did understand from Henrietta that she was entreated not to do so."

"Yes, I was some distance away from her but can truthfully state that she had no encouragement."

"What an imprudent action! Why would she do such a thing?"

Anne sighed. "I think it would best be understood in light of the relationship between Louisa and Frederik Wentworth. It seems that they were mutually agreeable to each others' company and at the last, I daresay, had formed a definite preference for one another. Her behavior that day was flirtatious, and I believe that might have provoked the woman to attempt her feat."

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Valeria. "How did Mr. Wentworth respond?"

"Oh, I believe the accident has solidified his devotion to the woman. So much so, that he could not be parted from her to stay at the house last night, but was adamant in returning to Louisa's side, regardless of the protests of her father that he should stay to rest." With this readily-asserted account of the matters between Louisa and Frederik, spoken so calmly and concisely by the woman, Valeria Russell was finally made to understand the feelings with which Anne viewed the situation.

Both women, inwardly, sighed with relief as the conversation continued, but each for her own purpose. Anne was grateful to have finally breached the topic, and displayed its effects on her disposition. Valeria, once relieved of her initial concern that Anne's heart was not entangled, was disposed of a rather triumphant pleasure that her premonitions had been correct. Frederik had never been right for the tastes and good breeding of Anne Elliot.

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**A/N: In Leroux's POTO, Buquet is found dead above the trapdoor of the Phantom's lair. He looks to have been strangled, but the rope is not found.**

**Many thanks to my beta, Tater, for taking me to task to ensure I'm keeping the descriptions clear. Sometimes it is hard to write out what is envisioned. Tater, I adore your incredible attention to the details, and feel so very fortunate to have your red ink on every page.**

**Ana-Misa: Thank you for telling me what you thought of 39. I didn't think it would get any reviews, and was concerned about whether it made sense. What a terrific reviewer you are!**


	42. A Visit to the Elliot Estate

Chapter 42

With Anne's encouragement, it was decided that the Musgroves would depart for Florida. They could hardly do anything else, their household and sensibilities being in such a state of uproar at every call and thought of Louisa. The only regret, it seemed, was felt by Henrietta, who had the luxury of her beloved's comfort while still at home. Charles Hayter, once he had been informed of Henrietta's return, did not falter in attending her and bestowing on her what solace he could. Yet, though Henrietta felt loathe to leave him, her fretful manner evinced the strain it was for her to be away from her sister at such a serious time.

So it was that Anne found herself completely alone in the Grand Manor, but for the servants. The feelings that prevailed upon her in the great, empty house were hardly expected. She recollected that it had been only slightly less than a fortnight since she had been a guest for dinner with the lively Louisa playing for Frederik. Unconsciously, she walked into the music room and looked over to the piano. His figure sitting at the instrument crossed her memory. She touched the piano, remembering her sensations in singing to his accompaniment once more.

These thoughts left the woman in a state of discontent. There was nothing left of the felicitous associations with these friends but solitary introspection. And she did view that time as felicitous; it would ever be engraved upon her mind as a time of unanticipated joy.

She made one last visit that day to her nephews before departing for Mrs. Russell's home. That doting woman welcomed her readily, having perceived Anne's spirit was inclined toward lowness. She assumed the reason for her indisposition was owing to the precarious state of Louisa Musgrove and her distance from her. Valeria would not waste her thoughts on the influences of Frederik Wentworth. Anne's candid words regarding his and Louisa's relationship had been such that every thought on that account would no longer be entertained by the overly-attentive woman.

Yet, Anne rallied herself well and seemed content, finding a desire for the return to New York. Though Valeria had spoken of Penelope Clay's interference, she did not seem so anxious to take her leave. Anne later learned that her cousin, Raoul, had returned to town, relieving Mrs. Russell's anxieties over Walter Elliot's safety.

Mary conducted herself as less of a correspondent after calling to inform them that Louisa was conscious and returning to herself. This was happy news indeed to the two women, but they soon found themselves out of the loop of information. Anne would call and leave messages; but, probably owing to the cell phones being turned off in the hospital, rarely did she receive a call back.

A week before their intended departure for New York, Anne was delivered a note addressed to her by a scrawled hand. It had not been seen by Valeria, the butler having sent it to the younger woman's quarters immediately. The writing looked familiar, and her quickly-beating heart confirmed to her whose hand had written the epistle. It was not dated or even stamped. She opened it to read,

_Dear Ms. Elliot,_

_The condition of Louisa Musgrove is much improved. She still requires much rest but has been moved to the inn. It is hoped that she will make a swift and full recovery, and that her mother and father will see her at home with them shortly._

_Best Regards-_

The epistle was not signed, which disconcerted the woman. Yet, she knew who had written it. Was Frederik in town? If so, how was he taking Louisa's situation? She thought about the appearance of the man as he had left the Musgrove estate, his countenance so care-worn. Her concern for his welfare prompted her to consider where he might be staying. She thought immediately of his brother and sister-in-law. It occurred to her that she, nor Valeria, had made any attempts to contact Edward and Laticia Wentworth.

At breakfast, Anne broached the subject, and Valeria agreed heartily. "I think your proposal is quite fitting, especially since none of the family has even visited the estate since the Wentworths have occupied it. I think it would be acceptable to call for an interview. Perhaps they might receive us before we leave town."

That evening found them on the steps of Anne's former residence. As the door was opened to the two women, and Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth welcomed them, Anne felt the sentiments of nostalgia and pain wash over her simultaneously. It was difficult to view Mrs. Wentworth's place as having been the place her mother would have occupied. The sentiments could not be hidden from her that, with her mother's influence, there would have been temperance and consideration for others in the Elliot family.

Yet, the Wentworths had endeared themselves to the woman almost from the first meeting. In thinking of her mother and family, she did not feel any ill will toward her father's tenants. In fact, she felt the estate was beautified, having been nurtured by their hands. She agreed to tour the grounds and complimented the small improvements Mr. Wentworth proudly displayed. The abundance of elaborate furnishings, which Walter Elliot had amassed as a symbol of his wealth, had been stored elsewhere. Each room was friendly and less pretentious. The changes had all been tastefully carried out.

Having been invited to sup with the couple, Anne and Mrs. Russell found the repast refreshing and the conversation uplifting. Edward Wentworth was a gracious host, and his character was such that all found delight in his contagious effervescence.

"I was telling Tisha just today that I wondered how your family handled the situation with Louisa Musgrove."

Laticia nodded, "She is still very young. It was such a blessing that she escaped what could have been a life-altering injury."

Anne agreed, and Valeria Russell stated, "It was also fortuitous that her family and friends were there to keep vigil round the woman."

"Exactly. I believe that our relationships with one another are so crucial to our experiences. I'm sure Louisa feels a sense of gratitude in having so many of her acquaintance concerned and attentive regarding her well-being. Why, Frederik was just here this morning for hardly an hour to pack up the rest of his things and return to Florida." He continued, in a playful strain, "You know, he really has found a singular way of wooing a woman. For, she's rather apt to keep him after she recovers."

Mr. Wentworth laughed, yet Anne noticed Valeria's expression was one of distaste at the man's jest. "Oh, Edward, our guests will think you insensitive," cautioned Laticia.

"You must excuse me," expressed the husband, still smiling. He looked at Valeria. "I did not mean to be flippant. It is just the way with me, but do not suppose I look upon the woman's situation lightly."

"I certainly hope not, Wentworth," declared Valeria Russell.

The twinkle had not left the man's eye as he turned to Anne to begin some new subject. On her countenance, he found an expression signifying that she understood his manner better than her friend.

"So, your brother does not intend to return to California?" Valeria asked politely. She was trying to steer the conversation away from the misfortunes of the eldest Musgrove daughter in her own way.

"I gather he does not," his brother replied. "From our brief conversation, I inferred he meant to continue there with Louisa until she was fully herself again."

"What about his musical?" asked Anne.

"Well, of course, that will premiere in the fall. Although I believe his work on the _Siren's Song_ composition is at a standstill." Edward Wentworth shook his head.

"Will you be in New York soon, then?" Laticia Wentworth asked Anne.

"We plan to be back in the city by next week."

"Ah," exclaimed her husband, "then it is fortunate we had this time to wish you a safe journey, though I will not say 'goodbye.'"

Anne looked questioningly at the man seated across from her. "We will be in the city for the debut of the musical. I assume we will see you during that time," he explained.

Valeria smiled, "It will be quite a production, from the rumors going about the city. You know, Anne's father and sister keep abreast of all the latest reports. Is it quite decided now that Francesca Carlotta will claim the siren's role?"

"I know nothing but what has been stated by Frederik. Is Francesca Carlotta of some consequence?"

Valeria's eyes widened; she was surprised at the man's ignorance. Even Anne had looked impressed when the celebrity's name was mentioned. "My dear Mr. Wentworth, Fran Carlotta is _the _most prominent film actress of the time." Her condescending tone aided in impressing upon her listeners the verity of her words. "Her participation alone in the performance could all but guarantee its success."

Members of the Musgrove family soon returned home once Louisa's state proved to be less threatening. By invitation, Anne and Valeria came to visit and dine at the Grand Manor the day before the two were scheduled to fly to New York.

"Sister!" exclaimed an overjoyed Mary at her arrival. The house was in total chaos when the two women entered. Children seemed to have taken over the abode; the foyer was strewn with toys and games. Anne immediately recognized that the three Harville children were present. One of Mary's boys was chasing after them with what looked to be a snake or lizard. Behind him followed one of the largest dogs the woman had ever set eyes upon.

"Shirley, sit! Sit down, I say!" reprimanded Mary weakly. She welcomed Anne and Mrs. Russell into the sitting room. "Mrs. Musgrove should be down soon. She is on the phone with Henrietta and Louisa."

"They are still in Florida, then?" asked Valeria, her eyes upon the wooly creature that threatened to nestle her wet nose into the lap of her flowing periwinkle and ivory skirt.

"Yes, Louisa is not up to traveling yet, but she is doing so well! One could hardly have expected such a swift recovery!"

"Shirley, go away now." Mary's attempts did very little to shoo the monstrous dog.

"Whose dog-," Valeria asked while the creature ignored the dismissal.

"Oh, it seems the boys found him while we were away, and they begged me to keep him. He stays outside at night, at least."

Anne noticed the disgust on the older woman's face as she eyed the drooling beast. To settle her godmother, the small woman reached out her hands to scratch the large dog behind the ears. Shirley looked up at her endearingly.

The children raced into the room. The two Harville daughters looked quite fearful of the reptile with which the boy taunted them.

"Charlie," Anne called to him. "Take the lizard outside."

"Oh, Nan!" He bowed his head but obeyed.

"Is that you, Anne?" Mrs. Musgrove asked as she neared the doorway. "Why, you precious dear. I have missed you." The younger approached the kindly older woman to embrace her. "Have you heard about Louisa? She is so much better, almost herself but for her low spirits. We had to leave Henrietta with her or I think she would have come undone. As it was, Henrietta wouldn't go without her. Oh, that reminds me," Mrs. Musgrove summoned the butler to ask, "Did an invitation get sent to Charles Hayter? Good. I wouldn't want to be remiss in inviting him." She returned to Anne and Valeria. After greeting the older woman, she stated, "It's sort of a little celebration we are having tonight. We would have waited until Louisa returned, but then you would both have gone on by then."

The two women partook of the dinner, and afterward, the women sat together in the music room with their coffee. Mr. Musgrove, Charles, and Mr. Hayter moved to the doctor's study. When the conversation lapsed, the four women did not notice; the noise from the little ones about them was escalated many times throughout the evening.

Mrs. Musgrove turned to look over at the piano and sighed. She smiled as Anne caught her eye. "The Harvilles, they are well?"

"Oh, yes. They are such a dear family. I thought Charles' boys would enjoy spending a bit of time with their little ones." She looked over to the two eldest as they played dolls in a corner. "And, of course, I thought it was the least I could do; they have been so kind to us."

"Who will fly the children back when Louisa returns?" asked Valeria. Her expression, though disguised, confirmed to Anne that she was not comfortable in her surroundings. Every so often she lifted her cup in fear that a child rushing by her would upset it. Mercifully, Mary had let the dog out; or, Anne feared, Mrs. Russell might have opted to leave immediately after the dinner was over.

"They will go back with their parents. The Harvilles will be escorting Louisa and Henrietta home."

"In Frederik's jet, I imagine," concluded Valeria.

"Why, no. Frederik has left St. Augustine. He had a communiqué from France. I don't know much, but I surmised it regarded a sister."

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**Misty Breyer: Your thoughts about being frustrated with Anne's long-suffering nature made your review very endearing to me. I feel the same way! I have deleted pages and pages, because I get carried away w/ the emotion and have to curb my Anne's character to better imitate J.A.'s Anne. J.A.'s **_**Persuasion**_** is all about trying to be patient and self-controlled, and the rewards that follow. J.A. wrote that her Anne was "almost too good" for her. This spirit of Anne's is not valued so much today; yet, it takes such force of strength.**

**Ana-Misa: It isn't clear what happened to old Joe. But, Anne doesn't think Erik's a homicidal maniac, so… Can we trust her judgment? Your comments were so sweet about the Harvilles, Musgroves, and Benwick. Thank you!**

**milk88: Your fav? Wow! Thanks so much. I'll certainly try to keep it up for you.**

**Reader: It's too fun! Thanks!**


	43. Our Cousin Raoul

Chapter 43

Sara came to take the boys home to bed, and shortly the men joined the women in the music room. Anne noted Charles Hayter's expression as he followed the other two gentlemen. He seemed eager for approval, and his future in-laws showed themselves ready to give it. It was clear to the small woman, as she viewed the three men, that Dr. Musgrove's design in separating from the females was deliberate. With the scare the family had undergone with Louisa's fall, Charles Hayter's rapport within the family circle had grown.

"Aren't we a large party tonight!" exclaimed the old doctor when the discussion around the room had died down.

"I feel as though we have too many missing to be very large," responded Mary, unaware that she had given voice to the true motive behind her father-in-law's attempts to be encouraging.

"Well, there shall be more here soon, Mary," answered her husband heartily. "I doubt even you will be eager for so much company once Louisa returns with her entourage."

"I think it will be splendid. Only, I do hope Benwick reconsiders." She turned to Valeria and explained, "He was all but decided that he would come along with the Harvilles. Then, the day of our flight back, he told Charles that he wasn't much up to the trip after all."

"Now, you know very well what changed his mind," asserted Charles.

"I know no such thing."

"When you told him that Anne would be back in New York, he suddenly decided against it." He turned to his sister-in-law. "He spoke very highly of you after you had gone."

"He never did! At least not in my presence," argued Mary.

"Well, I don't know where you were, but I heard him say one night at supper that he had been studying some book Anne had suggested, that he was ever so eager to talk over some point when next they met, and that she was one of the 'kindest, most inspiring, and most beautiful depictions of womankind he had been blessed to chance upon'."

Valeria was looking intrigued. "He said that, did he? Well, I believe I would like to meet this gentleman."

"Oh, you wouldn't think so much of him once you saw him. He is not a very striking man, nor is his manner of any consequence."

"Now, Mary. I think that is not for you to judge," stated Charles.

"I am not judging; I am only saying that I think Valeria would see nothing so agreeable in him. He is a very inattentive sort who doesn't take notice of the things that happen around him. He will walk right past you and never recognize that you might have too many parcels in your arms or may have dropped your keys."

"I can not agree with that depiction at all," said Anne. "He is very attentive and very thoughtful. And I happen to believe you would find him quite well-mannered." She had turned to speak the last words to her godmother.

"Well, I hold to the opinion that it would be worth meeting the man, though it seems unlikely," Valeria concluded.

"I shouldn't be surprised if he showed up on your doorstep once you find yourself at home, Anne. He did make mention that he was desirous to take a trip to New York soon, 'just to scope out the area,' he said." Charles looked as though he might laugh at the unfeigned interest James Benwick had shown and its results on his sister-in-law. She was positively crimson with the intentions the Captain's plans had necessarily revealed.

While the two women were bidding the Musgroves farewell, Mrs. Musgrove detained Anne by having a servant retrieve a package for her. "Mrs. Harville wanted me to give you this." At her queried gaze, the hostess added, "You left them behind when you quit the inn." Anne thanked Mrs. Musgrove and hurried out to the car where Mrs. Russell awaited her. As they journeyed back to the Russell estate, the older woman admitted her abhorrence of the environment during their time with the Musgroves.

"I cannot abide that excessiveness of noise and bedlam. I found it increasingly difficult to keep my mind on the conversations happening about me." Mrs. Russell sighed. "I will feel more at ease when I am home again."

Yet, Anne discovered, Valeria did not truly feel herself well-situated till once they reached the ever-animated bustle and sounds of New York City. "Do you not find the attraction of this city lies in its constant rumble and fundamental rhythm?" her godmother asked. Anne smiled to herself. In comparison to the delighted squeals and merry-making of children, some would find the commotion of the town far more unnerving.

"Why, Anne!" exclaimed Mrs. Clay. "Look who is here, Elliot!" she called toward the drawing room. Penelope Clay had crossed the hall to enter therein when the butler opened the door to the solitary woman.

"Show him in," responded Anne's father. But when his daughter was lead into the room, he looked confused. "Oh, it is only Anne. I thought our Raoul was finally come."

Elizabeth sat somewhat away from her father and had dropped her book into her lap in anticipation. But when she saw her sister, she flung her book aside, giving credence to the speculation that taking up the book had only been a ruse to seem busy at some leisurely task.

"Of course it isn't he! I told you," she reprimanded her father petulantly, "he had a dinner appointment with his friend, Wallis. If he comes, it will be late. It is only now seven o'clock." Yet, her previous actions contradicted her words. It was obvious that the woman hoped to be visited by Monsieur de Chagny, whether she knew it to be impossible or no.

"I hope you have been getting on well here," offered Anne, ignoring the affront of her father's words. She looked around the elegant abode. It was indeed overlarge and very grandiose.

"Well, it is not California," stated Elizabeth, looking out the window at the panoramic view. Anne perceived that her sister had not forgotten their previous dispute had over the phone three or so weeks ago. Yet, the irony of the woman's disposition in feeling herself to be ill-used, and the prepossessing scenery that the suite looked out upon, kept Anne from feeling the least bit regretful in actuating the move.

Mrs. Clay settled herself in a chair directly opposite Walter Elliot. It seemed to be a regular occurrence, judging from her father's reaction: a slight nod as she was seated. "And what have Mary and her lot been busy with, since you have been with them?" Anne, surprised that her father might feign concern, was taken aback slightly. It resulted in her answer being rather short. For, obviously, he had not been truly concerned or would know the state of matters with that family.

"Why, Louisa's accident, of course." They all looked up at her swiftly. Her abrupt manner was not lost on them. Anne tried to smooth over any impolite implication that might have been inferred. "She should be returning to the Grand Manor in a day or so."

"I only asked to be considerate. I didn't expect to be snapped at," huffed the Great Elliot. He turned to Mrs. Clay, "Did you hear the tone she used with me?"

Elizabeth rejoined, "You needn't act as though you are the only one to care about Louisa. I had heard the full account of it some days ago. I am very sorry for her. I am sure Valeria Russell informed you of my calling to notify her, as well." The eldest sister looked meaningfully at Anne. She, in essence, was telling her sister that where she had been remiss in her duties, Elizabeth had not.

"Where is Valeria?" Elliot asked, realizing that the two had been scheduled to return together.

"She was concerned over some business she needed to discuss with her assistant. She will be over shortly."

"Well, she needn't rush over on our account," Elizabeth stated.

"Our party has not been so lively since her leave-taking," Mrs. Clay hazarded to comment.

"Nonsense," argued Elizabeth, "We have been perfectly content…but for the few days Raoul had to be out of town."

"I suppose that is true," her father asserted.

"You remember our cousin, Raoul de Chagny," Elizabeth stated; it was not truly a question.

"I do not."

"Of course you do. He visited us – oh, yes, you were in school then. It was a very sad time. His step-father, my uncle, had passed. He came to give dad some mementoes Uncle William had left to him."

"Yes, but let's not go over that again. Very insignificant. I am glad that you are here, Anne." His middle child looked up at him, surprised at his kindness toward her. "You will keep our number even when we attend the opening."

Anne was curious as to which event she was expected to be present with her father but did not ask the question. Instead, the butler came to announce a visitor, and Anne, expecting her godmother, moved toward the entrance of the room.

"Vicomte Raoul de Chagny," he declared to the inhabitants of the suite. Anne backed away, but her steps were halted by the appearance of the man who walked into the room.

The first aspect of him she noticed was his familiar blue eyes. She gasped slightly in surprise. "Why…"

He immediately turned, having been prepared to be received by the usual inhabitants of the suite and gave her a second glance. "You…"

Elizabeth was immediately up from her chair. "Raoul, was your dinner with the Wallises cancelled? We did not expect-," She stopped as she noticed the simultaneous expressions of recognition on the faces of her sister and her cousin. "This is my sister, Anne," she announced.

"I know you - I mean – we have met…well-."

Anne's shining eyes were beaming her appreciation that they shared the unanticipated pleasure of meeting one another again. She smiled slightly, trying to contain her fluttering heartbeat, yet becomingly unaware of how her dark eyes beckoned.

He stepped toward her. "You do remember," he asserted. "I am the one who went into the sea to rescue your scarf!"

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**A/N: For my non-LeRoux-POTO readers: Raoul de Chagny reunites w/ Christine when they are grown by stating, "I am the boy who went into the sea to rescue your scarf!"**

**Ana-Misa: In **_**Persuasion**_**, Mary's children "respected [Anne more than their mother." It is rather sad, I agree. Anne believes what she told Valeria of Frederik, she just had a hard time bringing up his name. I'm so glad the POTO info helps! Thanks!**

**Misty Breyer: Ah, Leroux's Erik was a murderer; can't get around that. Should I remain true to that account with my Erik? And yes, you've picked up on how Anne is distancing herself from Valeria. The one thing they never truly agreed upon has resurfaced. I'm very grateful for your reviews!**

**followthestory: Wow! You expressed some heated feelings. And, yeah, Valeria is very protective of Anne. I think it had to have been hard for Anne to choose between her godmother, who wanted to give her what she **_**thought**_** was for the best, and what Anne's heart wanted. Yet, she loves Leri. Incredible thoughts; I'm so glad you posted them.**

**Sweet Christabel: Ah, I haven't lost you! I was hoping you were still enjoying the story. In **_**Persuasion**_**, the surgeon informs them that the "head had received a severe contusion." That's what I researched. So, the knock to the head would've been pretty blunt. When I first pictured her fall, I admit, I laughed. Just the thought of whacking one's head on something hanging above while flirting was so ironic. Like the scene from **_**The Naked Gun**_** when Priscilla Presley walks into the pole when she's being a tease.**


	44. A Pleasant Place to Call Her Own

**A/N: This story is becoming more challenging, forcing me to slow my writing pace. So, I'm considering updating only once a week while I chip away at the stubborn points. Give a scribbler your thoughts: can you stand to wait for a once-a-week update or does that make you howl in protest?**

Chapter 44 – A Pleasant Place to Call Her Own

"Yes, of course," Anne was smiling fully now. She found his charming attention all that could be desired of the handsome, well-mannered man. Yet, she perceived her sister's face fall perceptibly with the news. Elizabeth tried to make sense of the man's statements.

"My sister has been in California."

Raoul looked on Elizabeth with a confused expression. "But…"

"And I was in Florida, where I happened to lose my scarf. It was M. de Chagny who returned it." She nodded toward him, her lips still upturned sweetly. "And I'm very grateful," she added quietly.

The butler announced the presence of Mrs. Russell. "Why Valeria, here you are, finally." Walter Elliot seemed to say it as though it was expected, not as if he truly had any trial of patience on her account.

"I do apologize for being held up – ah! Vicomte," she greeted Raoul. "And I see you have met Anne."

"We were just becoming reacquainted," he responded.

"_Re_acquainted, did you say?" Valeria looked askance at Anne, who could not help but laugh. Even those two or three notes, liltingly given, found her with Raoul's complete attention again. She looked back to her godmother, who did not attempt to conceal her delight with the discovery.

The Great Elliot performed his duty of polite inquiries regarding the state of matters in California; then the topic returned to his own interests. "I have been reunited with so many of my old acquaintances; I hardly know where to begin. My friend, Carolus Fonta, is giving a concert in three weeks: the _Winds of the Wild Wood_. He has been out of the country for three years and would not be coaxed to return for any event until now."

"There will only be one performance, so it was imperative that we purchased the tickets in advance. Of course, it is for a good cause," added Elizabeth.

"Oh?" asked Valeria.

"Yes, I don't remember which one. Dad, do you? Was it for the preservation of a tribe or some rainforest in Brazil?"

"I can't keep up with all of them. All I can do is benevolently desire that my money makes some impact on the poor…cause."

Anne could hardly suppress the look of chagrin that crossed her features. She avoided her godmother's gaze. With the vicomte in the room, she felt the importance of not introducing the subject of miscellaneous contributions with funds promised that were secured by some other means than out of one's own pocket.

"We have excellent seats for all of you," gestured The Great Elliot grandly. "The concert is all but sold out." The man looked at them all with an expression that clearly bespoke his belief in his magnanimity.

"That is very kind, I am sure," noted Mrs. Russell, whose words Anne knew to be concealing her own less-than-pleased pangs at this news. She did not wish to be a means of causing her friend to borrow even more against his valued possessions.

"I am so excited," added Penelope Clay, looking around the room at its inhabitants. "I have never seen one of Fonta's performances. I hear he is incredible."

"He is a genius, my dear. Have no doubt." Walter Elliot turned to the woman and smiled condescendingly toward her. Yet, something in his demeanor had changed with Elizabeth's friend since the last time Anne had seen them together. Anne studied the fair-haired Mrs. Clay and saw that she was not much changed since California. "Since he has been considered retired for quite a while, it will be such an honor to attend his charity concert."

Walter Elliot was silently waiting for some compliment, having alluded to the merits of a retired man of musical talent.

"Why, Elliot!" exclaimed Penelope. "I do think we are daily honored with such a one as proficient as he. Even greater, I will be bold and declare. Perhaps, tonight you might perform a piece for us? It will be for our very own ears alone - which causes me sorrow for those who can not have such a pleasure - but, still, it will be treasured more than anything of Carolus Fonta's."

Anne did not curb herself from noting how Valeria Russell reacted to Mrs. Clay's flattery. The older woman's lip was slightly curled, imperceptibly to those who did not know her intimately.

"You should play tonight, Dad," encouraged Elizabeth. "Raoul, will you not stay and listen with us?" The haughty eldest daughter of Walter Elliot looked up at the man with as close to a beseeching expression as she could assume. Truly, Elizabeth was a beautiful woman, and clearly, she was using all her powers of coquetry. Her intelligent eyes, a deep brown, were upturned to await M. de Chagny's response. Her silky brown tresses were cut short, impressing upon the viewer a sense of her sophistication. Her entire person, from her 5'7" height to her perfectly sun-honeyed skin, displayed her confidence and ability to command an audience.

"It would delight me," he said, directing his attention to Anne. Valeria Russell watched her expression out of the corner of her eye. The younger Miss Elliot regarded the vicomte with a pleased, but embarrassed, countenance, flustered at having his attention once more. Outwardly, her expression was one of serenity as she met his gaze, unknowingly giving the impression of a come-hither glance. Valeria could see in Raoul's eager face curiosity – mystification, even - of such a beauty as was Anne Elliot's.

"Anne, you are tired-looking. Are you sure you are well?" Elizabeth asked her.

Anne responded honestly, "Well, the flight was a bit…"

"Our flight was delayed, but I don't-," began Mrs. Russell.

"Dear sister, you must go home and rest yourself. I shall not be party to causing you an illness."

Anne saw through her sister's ploy immediately but instead of arguing, merely agreed. "I think you are right, Elizabeth. I shall bid you all goodnight."

"Shall I escort you?" offered Raoul, coming to her side as she rose to go. Anne was taken aback by his gentlemanly sense of etiquette.

"Oh, you needn't worry for her, Raoul. She can make it to the cab, I daresay." Elizabeth laughed. "Besides," she turned to look towards her father who was lifting his Strad from its display case, "you will miss the first movement."

"I will take Anne home. So, let me say 'goodnight', as well," said Mrs. Russell. She stated it testily, but Elizabeth did not deign to notice her.

"So, soon?" Walter Elliot asked, as he tuned the instrument, preparing to entertain his audience. He seemed completely obvious to the two women moving toward the door. "Well, you must return on the morrow. We are going to tour Raoul's new theater."

"Yes," added Monsieur de Chagny. "I would be delighted if both of you would join us. We will be leaving from here at noon, wouldn't you say?" Elizabeth, her lips formerly pursed in irritation at Raoul's impulsive invitation, donned a false smile and nodded.

"I will not be able to get away so soon, but I'm sure Anne will be pleased to accept," Valeria offered for the woman beside her.

"Then it is settled," spoke Elliot, the violin resting loosely under his chin.

"Only," interrupted Elizabeth, "do not arrive here any earlier than ten o'clock. I know how you are always up at dawn," she said pointedly to Anne. "But we will not be taking callers." The older sister settled back against the stiff leather cushions of her chair. She was disappointed and had found an acceptable way to vent her frustrations with her sister's intrusion on their planned outing.

As the servant showed them out, the first strains of Bach followed them through the door. Valeria put her arm around the petite woman. Her gesture was not one of pity, but enthusiasm.

"My dear, I am so thrilled for you!" she exclaimed on the drive across the bridge. Anne did not answer, knowing fully the reason for her godmother's assertion. It was another five minutes before Mrs. Russell added meaningfully, "He is quite the gentleman, isn't he?"

"Quite," confirmed Anne. Though the giddiness inside her during her meeting with the man had not lessened, she would not bring herself to express her feelings to Valeria. Her godmother knew that she was attracted to Raoul. Who could not but be attracted to such a man!

"I now see that my fears were unfounded," Valeria continued.

"You mean, about Mrs. Clay?" asked Anne.

"No! No, in that I am still fearful." Mrs. Russell sighed then changed her tone. "No! I am speaking of your losing out to your sister."

Anne found the idea of a competition between herself and her older sister upsetting. Again, there was a lull for many minutes until the younger woman finally expressed, "I hope you will not compare us, Valeria."

"Really, my dear, you give yourself no credit. You are far superior to Elizabeth in thought and deed."

"Leri, do you really think this does me any good? I prefer to quit the subject."

"Very well." Yet, the older woman smiled to herself as they were driven to Anne's residence. All evening the small woman had spoken only occasionally, but there was something in her quiet way. Valeria looked to the face of the one seated beside her. Anne's countenance was still too pale, but the coloring, absent for some years, had begun to return to her features. The tinting was healthier, and the dimples on her cheeks, when she smiled, were now visible once more. Yet, it was Anne's eyes that had turned Raoul's countenance that evening, Valeria had no doubt. There was some secretive and unearthly spell contained in those dark, twinkling orbs that had captured the heart of more than one man in her past. Mrs. Russell wondered to herself what it was that had brought back that luminous energy in her god-daughter's expression.

The driver parked in front of the building, and Mrs. Russell accompanied Anne up to her rooms. Anne opened the door to her godmother, and Valeria looked over the living area. "Was it this bare when you left it in the spring?"

Anne laughed as she viewed the apartment. "Yes, I think this was close to the way it looked when I departed two months ago."

When the last of her bags were deposited in the miniscule entryway, Anne followed Mrs. Russell back to her car. Valeria kissed her god-child goodbye. "I will call you tomorrow. We will have dinner." The older woman settled herself into the back of the vehicle but then motioned through the open window to Anne, who approached and took the offered missive. "The note from your friend," explained Mrs. Russell before she drove away.

Anne made her way back up to her residence and contemplated her introduction to Raoul. Each thought of him made her desirous of seeing him again. His smiles and his expressions, when he had addressed her, made her anxious to know more of him. Yet, there was nothing in his manner that gave her leave to believe him particularly attracted to her. He found her looks pleasing; she had felt that from the meeting on the bridge when he had returned her scarf.

Raoul de Chagny had been happily settled in her father and sister's company for at least a month and a half now. He had found something to interest him, and it wasn't she. Anne reconciled her feelings. All signs pointed to his being intrigued by Elizabeth's charms. He seemed to enjoy her conversation, and it was obvious that her sister had her eye on the vicomte. Yes, Elizabeth was his object, and Valeria had chosen to remain ignorant of his interest in her sister.

She went into the bedroom and donned a soft lounge-wear favorite. It was tattered, and therefore it had been unacceptable to pack. It gave her comfort to snuggle up in her "lumpy chair" after finding a somewhat stale English muffin to consume while awaiting her chamomile tea steeping on the stove. She opened the letter Valeria had given her and read,

_Dear Anne,_

_So, it has been half a year since you have heard two words from me. I won't apologize. You know the muddle-headed friend that I am. Yet, I have good news! You will be pleased to know I am back in the city. No, I am not teaching dance, at present; I am the choreographer for the musical, _The Siren of the Laconia_. Now, before you get too enthusiastic, I have to acknowledge that I will not be able to stay with you. The dances are being re-orchestrated, and we are working day and night to have the numbers completed. The director is working in Manhattan, so I am sharing a flat nearby to be more accessible and better rested._

_The rehearsals for the new routines have begun. Should you get a spare moment, come to --- Street between ---- and ---, Number --- and visit me. I would call on you again, but I am too tied up._

_Ever your greatest fan,_

_Gina_

Anne smiled at the letter. It was so like her friend. Gina's closing reminded her of how the woman had first convinced her to walk out onto the balcony to practice her voice exercises.

"_It may be the only time these people get to hear real talent,"_ she had said to persuade her.

In honor of Gina, Anne went outside to sing that evening. She considered singing _The Siren's Song_ but immediately decided against it. Instead, she sang the melody of the trickling tune she had first heard Erik play. She knew every note of it by heart but had not sung it for years. She tried to perform the technique, which Frederik had noticed was executed incorrectly in Florida, holding a few of the higher notes. With each try, her voice began to gain better control. Yes, she needed to practice this. It was pleasant to work at it again. When she finally finished, there was sparse clapping from a few neighboring windows around her.

"Brava, songbird!" one voice spoke above the cacophony of the city's sounds. She smiled and returned to her rooms. Home was a pleasant place to call her own again.

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**A/N: La Sorelli was a dancer at the **_**Opera Populaire**_** in Leroux's POTO.**

**Ana-Misa: Francesca Carlotta will be the character of La Carlotta from Leroux's POTO. Your perceptions are right with regard to Valeria's values. Oh, yes: Christine believed that love would conquer all. Would it have? Would it have in the case of J.A.'s Anne? Your questions about Carlotta's role in the theatrical will definitely be answered…later. g Btw, you hit on something in your review about who persuaded Christine to leave. That's all I can say.**

**Misty Breyer: So, you don't want Anne do an "EB," huh? Glad to know it. I feel a lot of pressure to have some dramatic scene where she "blesses him out." But, it really isn't appropriate to this story. Having said that, though, there will come a time when she finds it a little harder than J.A.'s Anne to cope. All that passion and pain has to resurface sometime.**


	45. Walter Elliot's Opinion on the Matter

Chapter 45

She began to unpack her suitcases. While removing her jeans, she found the empty box which had encased the scarf Frederik had given to her. Disappointedly, she recalled having left the gift in the bathroom. Quickly, she searched for the package from Mrs. Harville and opened it. Other items she had left in the bathroom were sealed and enclosed therein, along with a necklace, earrings, and her book of poetry. It took a moment for it to register as she hunted about the odds and ends. The loose scarf wasn't among the contents of the box.

She found an unfamiliar package nestled between the other articles. She opened it, and, with trembling hands, removed the shimmering material. This was not the one that had lost its sheen. Anne looked on the crimson brilliance as it unfolded. The old one was gone, and here was a new scarf, just the same as the first before it had met the ocean's surface. She smiled to herself and placed it to her cheek. Her mind was disposed to think the replacement had been Frederik's doing. It was possible, during Louisa's vigil, that he could have overheard what had happened to the first one after Mrs. Harville or one of the housekeepers found it. Yet, there was someone else who could have performed such a kind gesture: Benwick. He was there when Raoul had returned the scarf to her. He might have been the instigator of such a romantic deed. She emptied out what remained in the box. There was no note. Surely, Benwick would have put in a small letter. Could it be possible that Frederik…? It had been his initial gift. It would make sense that he would not explain his action; he was merely replacing the old.

Anne scolded herself in putting so much thought into the accessory. She set it down and turned to discard Mrs. Harville's empty package. Into the wastebasket slipped out a long brown envelope from the base of it. Anne picked it up and peered into the pocket. A navy pamphlet rested within, the score to the _Siren's Song_ which Frederik had placed into her hands at the recording studio.

If the breath had not been removed from her chest with the replacement of the scarf, it had certainly left her when she espied the music. Longings she had not given herself permission to feel swept over her with such a force. "Oh!" was the only syllable that passed her lips. Yet, all of the past three weeks flooded back to her mind. His eyes, his smile when he had spoken of his cottage home, the note in his voice when he had told her the piece had only been acceptable. Erik!

No! No! He was not Erik. He was Louisa's Frederik. Why did she have to go through these thoughts again? Why could she not be satisfied with what she had? Even as she tried to quell the sentiments, she released the score which was pressed against her heart and looked down upon the music lovingly. 'Every note of every meter, he had thought of her!' was the happy thought. 'And hated her with every word,' came the response.

That night, as her mind faded into a dreamless state, it occurred to her that Frederik might still be in France. She had the impression whatever had called him away had been a matter of import dealing with his sister, Sophia. But surely he had returned to Louisa by now. The woman thought about his words again: "_What if she dies?_" The pain in his voice had said it all; he had learned to love Louisa Musgrove. She wondered whether the accident had drawn them together, so much so that a proposal was imminent. It was quite possible, she told herself, that she might hear the news any day.

The next morning, after returning from the store to restock her refrigerator and pantry, Anne sat down with her laptop to post an ad in various online bulletins for a roommate and to check her messages. She found a tentative teacher's schedule from the Archibald School of Music for the upcoming year and a note detailing her responsibilities before the semester began. She would be back at work in three weeks. The thought made her sigh. So much had happened since she had locked the door to her small office in June.

She found correspondence from the volunteer music program, _Note_d Youth. The district manager was requesting an interview regarding her willingness to work with students interested in voice lessons. She quickly responded that she would come by the office.

Anne logged on to The Poet Analysis Machine and perused the forum. She had not accessed the site since her return from Florida. Regret filled her as she found the-swords-point22 posts. One stated, "Looking for LyriChristine – are you online, posting? PM me!"

Anne regretted having disabled her private messaging. Immediately, she set to work to respond to the Captain. She typed, "I have heard that you will visit New York soon." She deleted the line. No, let him inform her. It was his news. Instead she sent a message apologizing for not checking the forum of late and that she would be more diligent thereafter.

"I do so hope we will be able to visit M. de Chagny's theatre today."

"Why would we not?" Elizabeth asked her friend as Anne accompanied them out onto the terrace.

"I had heard that it might rain," expressed Penelope. Anne sat down to the late morning repast and noted the Shiitake and Crab with Brie.

"Scrumptious," complimented Penelope as she eyed the entree.

"It is the last of the Shiitake mushrooms." Elizabeth sighed and looked to her sister. "We find this budget very trying."

"Ah, brunch," announced her father as he entered the room. He was dressed casually, yet it was a deliberateness of dress which all who knew him knew he took great pains to exact.

"You look well this morning, Elliot," spoke Penelope Clay.

"Do I? Well, it is not due to Forrester's aid. Look at this!" The man directed the attention of the females to his shirt collar. "I told him I wanted it pressed. It's been pressed so many times in so many directions it won't even lie crisp now. And he knows it has to be crisp."

"I think you look splendid," cooed Mrs. Clay.

"Yes, don't let it ruffle you, Dad," stated Elizabeth.

"Who is Forrester?" asked Anne, confused. "I thought-,"

"Dosier quit. It seems New York did not agree with him," explained Elizabeth briefly.

"I didn't even give him a recommendation, the selfish man," added Walter Elliot.

"But he was your assistant for seventeen years!"

"He only gave me two weeks notice! And I haven't been able to find anyone who coordinates my shirts correctly. Forrester is the third man, and he is sadly deficient. Where are they training these idiots?"

"You are upsetting yourself. Truly, I fear for your health," gestured Mrs. Clay. Anne watched as the woman reached her hand out to pat his. While her father removed his hand, he did not continue to complain.

"Anne, you have not heard the news about Dame Constance Dalrymple's Spa," introduced Elizabeth, her eyes expressive with the import of the topic.

Elliot interrupted his daughter, "Ah, yes! The Dalrymple Spa opening!" His countenance lit up, and he declared to Anne. "She is only the height of social glitterati. Dear, dear Connie. We go back."

"Dad has been asked to take part in the grand opening of Dame Dalrymple's new pampering resort and day spa. The ribbon-cutting is in a fortnight, and Dame Dalrymple, herself, will be here! The day spa is really designed to be a retreat for celebrities, so the crème de la crème will be flying in from all over the country and Europe. Dad intends to play the first movement of Mendelssohn's _Violin Concerto in E minor_. It is Dame Dalrymple's favorite."

"I remember when I first played at the National Concert Hall in Dublin. She came up to me and said my concerto brought tears to her eyes." Walter Elliot held his damask tea napkin pressed to his heart; a display of how her words had touched him.

"You must miss playing for such devoted audiences," gushed Mrs. Clay.

"The Vicomte de Chagny, Mr. Elliot," announced the butler.

"Ah, Raoul. We are still partaking. Won't you join us?" Walter Elliot motioned to the man to take a chair opposite Mrs. Clay. The man feigned not to notice the gesture and placed himself across from Anne at the center of the table. This seemed to please the lady at the opposite end. For, the Vicomte was much closer to her than he would have been had he sat next to her father. Still, she was not fully pleased with his location, having seen his attention to Anne the night before. Elizabeth took great pains to draw Raoul de Chagny's eyes toward her person by speaking to him directly.

"I suppose the Wallises will be along shortly?" Elizabeth asked.

"I assume that is so. I have not spoken with Wallis today." Something in the man's air gave a slight hint of displeasure. Yet, his visage was not discernible as he was looking down to the dish he was being served. The course, which the lady of the house had motioned the servant to bring him, materialized too swiftly for anyone to doubt that she had expected him to come before they had adjourned.

"Penelope was just saying she thought it might rain." Elizabeth added.

The Great Elliot spoke, "Perhaps we should postpone our tour for another day then." Both his daughter and her friend looked to him, undisguised disappointment clearly visible on both of their countenances.

Awaiting Raoul's response, Anne looked up to meet the mesmerizing blue eyes of the man before her. She felt her heart hasten in its task as the vicomte speculated, "It was forecasted to be clear today. Besides, if it should rain, I doubt it would have any real influence upon our plans.

"I am sure you were grossly deceived, Penelope. It will not rain at all," Elizabeth declared looking to her father.

"I am glad to hear it," stated Elliot, relieved. "I was looking forward to our tour, Raoul, and I should so hate to be seen in company with you in foul weather. There would, inevitably, be someone there to take my picture. Such a bedraggled display would be undesirable, for me as well as for you."

He turned to Anne and announced, "We have been here for a little over two months, and I am disturbed at the appalling number of women who venture out distressingly unfit to be looked upon! First, there is not a pretty face among them. One day I counted thirty-two – _thirty-two_ – women before I saw one decent face. And that isn't the worst of it. They journey out in all manner of garb that does not in any way strike me as becoming. Layers of flab hanging out at their waists and bellies… Oh! Now, mind you, I realize not everyone has the genes to keep a trim middle, but do they have to flaunt the excess of their unflattering figures?"

Mrs. Clay was in full agreement, Anne judged, by the way the woman gave a variety of positive responses during her father's speech. Anne also noticed that Elizabeth's friend was dressed in a blouse that covered her naval. Yet distinctly, she recalled first meeting Penelope Clay. The woman had worn a shirt which displayed her belly piercing. In fact, Anne remembered that Penelope had had quite an assortment of short tops when she had originally become acquainted with the inhabitants of the Elliot estate in California.

"I'll admit it does not seem to be so bad with the men," Walter Elliot continued. "It is more in season than ever for a man to give attention to his complexion and muscle tone. But it never ceases to amaze how one scruffy-looking fellow can infiltrate a crowd of the clean-cut sort and ruin the whole effect," he concluded. He was finished with his speech and looked to his audience, who, as yet, remained silent.

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**Ana-Misa: Yes, how will Anne deal with meeting Frederik again after (ta-da!) Raoul? Elizabeth is very proud, and very confident. Thanks; you really help me consider what I need to go into greater detail about later.**

**Misty Breyer: You are right: it's easier to love an innocent Frederik than a murderous one. So, I gather you want Anne to love Frederik. I laughed at your "love the angst" line! Yeah, it's fun. Thanks for writing a book. It's a compliment that you like the chapter enough to do so.**

**bluetinkerbell: Originally, I wondered if not knowing the Phantom parts would hurt the understanding of the story. Now I think it's safe to say it doesn't. Thanks!**


	46. Marriage, The Proper Thing

**A/N: All establishment names mentioned as being in New York are either taken from **_**Persuasion**_**, POTO, or my funny little brain. If the building descriptions should sound familiar, it is only coincidental.**

**To each of you who said you'd stick with the story for weekly updates: thank you for your understanding heart!**

Chapter 46

Both out of curiosity, for she recollected some mention of it from Mrs. Russell, and a desire to keep her father from revisiting the subject of appearance once more, Anne asked Raoul. "You are the new owner of the Fontaine?"

"Not presently. I hope to sign the papers shortly. Most of the renovations are being concluded; it looks as though the walk-through will be in a week, as planned."

"He has had to amend the contract three times now because the owners did not see to the repairs as they had agreed. It is shameful. How did they ever expect to sell the hall in such a condition!" exclaimed Elizabeth, dropping her serviette on her salad plate and motioning for the china to be removed.

"Well, as you will see today, the improvements have been many."

"Mr. Wallis," announced the butler, when he had gained Walter Elliot's attention.

Anne looked up to view a man in his late thirties enter the room. Raoul immediately rose to receive him, and the Great Elliot merely gave a welcoming smile. "Delighted, Wallis! You have already eaten, I daresay."

"Yes, I thank you." Lionel Wallis was directed into the drawing room where the rest of the party soon joined him.

Anne's father made excuse as he entered, expressing his regret in not attending them. "Please continue with your conversation while I ready myself for the tour." The Great Elliot had to be certain that no hair was out of place before leaving the residence. He kept fastidiously close attention to dress and decorum when about in the town.

"Dad will only be a short while," spoke Elizabeth Elliot, every inch a hostess. Yet, her remark Anne knew to be a slight exaggeration. Mrs. Clay rested in her usual chair near her father's own. It was Elizabeth who took her father's seat now. "How is your wife, Lionel? I see she is not with you."

"She is well, and so is little Madeleine. She sends her apologies - my wife, I mean."

Elizabeth turned to Anne to inform her, "Lionel is now a proud father. How old is Madeleine?"

"Four weeks old today."

Mrs. Clay sighed. "I think babies are so precious. They are so cute."

"Except when they make a lot of commotion and keep a person awake at all hours screaming," commented Mr. Wallis.

Their hostess laughed. "How very entertaining you are!" Elizabeth addressed the vicomte. "What a good friend you have, Raoul. You did not tell me that he was so diverting."

Wallis looked sheepish when Raoul answered rather quietly, "He has kept my spirits up these past months."

The attitude of the group became somber, and Anne, unsure of the reason, asked the vicomte, "I hope it is no secret why your spirits need lifting?"

Raoul looked as if he would give some kind explanation to the woman but was interrupted.

"Anne, dear, M. de Chagny lost his wife only six months ago."

The surprised expression on Anne's face was not lost on the mourning widower. "I am terribly sorry," she said, feeling both sorry for the man and embarrassed for having brought the subject forward.

Anne found herself situated between Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay on the ride over to The Fontaine. "I was speaking to Penelope this morning that I believe Raoul is holding up well after his wife's passing."

"Does he speak of her often to you?"

"No, not at all. The only real account of her I've learnt was from Wallis."

"Were they very much in love?"

"I think not," she asserted. Mrs. Clay voiced a timid agreement, while Elizabeth continued. "I've been given the impression they married because it was expected of him. He had responsibilities to his family, and she had money and was devotedly in love with him."

"This is what Wallis declared?" asked Anne with surprise.

"Well, it is not as though he could turn to me and say so plainly," Elizabeth stated peevishly.

Mrs. Clay concurred, adding, "He did say that his friend had not been so enamored of the woman, but thought the marriage the proper thing."

Anne was shocked at this news. Mr. Elliot had not only been married but had vowed to bind himself to a woman he did not love. Why would a man do such a thing?

"How long was he married?"

"Oh, let us see if I can recall… He came to visit us after you went off to school, and that was some ten years ago. He was nineteen then, and Wallis said he married at twenty-one. So, he was married for seven or eight years. My! Eight years is a long time to be married when you aren't in love with a person." Elizabeth looked out the window of the vehicle and did not seem as deeply impressed with the passage of time as she asserted. "He had his family's good name to consider, of course," she mused.

Elliot was escorted by the vicomte around the ground floor of the concert hall, while Wallis and the three ladies followed. "The area around the stage seemed to be in the most disrepair," observed Raoul as they stepped down one of the aisles toward it. "The entryway with its defunct wiring is troublesome as well."

Though small, the hall itself was imposing even in its decrepit state. "It will need an abundance of cosmetic work done to it as well," Raoul added, noting the women's perusal as they viewed the surrounding walls and an upper level which seated so few it seemed unnecessary.

"Raoul, it will be magnificent! You have such an eye for a find." Elizabeth congratulated.

"I am looking forward to the first performance," he smiled. "That will be a good while yet, I know."

Elizabeth, Mrs. Clay and Elliot separated themselves for a short time, going over the rooms of the building thoroughly. Anne could only surmise that her older sister took such pains so that she might avail herself of further conversation with M. de Chagny. Her father's voice traveled as he informed Mrs. Clay of an intimate concert he had performed in which the hall had been similarly laid out. "Of course, there was no standing room left to be had," he boasted.

Raoul had expressed an interest to show Wallis the renovations in the foyer. Anne wandered about the building on her own, fancying that the state of disrepair added to its aura; like a waiting, lonely spirit, it seemed to hold its secrets in hushed anticipation. After exploring the floor, she took to the stairs to view the balcony, hoping to understand why such an oddly-shaped, miniscule upper level had been created. As she reached the top, she heard voices and found herself completely in view of a heated discussion, though the words were spoken too softly for her to hear. M. de Chagny was grasping Lionel Wallis' shoulder in a manner of entreaty, and the second gentleman looked to be in great discomfort of mind. The two men abruptly quit the subject when they perceived Anne.

Raoul approached her immediately, removing her distress at the interruption by saying, "Wallis, this woman will think us the worst of enemies, I daresay."

Lionel, looking flustered, shook his head and stated, "Never, de Chagny. I should never let that be said." He gave a small smile to Anne, and left the balcony, leaving the vicomte and the Great Elliot's daughter to converse alone.

"I am terribly sorry if I -,"

He was shaking his head before she finished. "Do not trouble yourself. Wallis is just having a bit of difficulty, and I was trying to advise him. You are well, I hope?" She readily agreed she was. "I so wanted to ask you your name." A look of confusion crossed her features at his remark. "On the bridge in St. Augustine," he explained, smiling. "Then later, we met one morning. Do you recall it?"

"I do." Anne blushed slightly, remembering the look he had given her as she had exited the street in St. Augustine.

He gestured for her to walk along the balcony beside him. He was watching her intently as they crossed in front of the seats overlooking the ground floor. "I was very surprised to see you that second time and wasn't sure if you recognized me. I didn't want to be rude and stop you on your way. You looked to be absorbed in some task else I might have attempted it." The vicomte's considerations were pleasing to Anne. He displayed an eloquent understanding of feeling and behavior which impressed the woman.

"I wish you had. I came very close to thanking you again but feared you would not recollect our meeting." They smiled at one another, having surmised how alike they had been in their actions.

Anne thought over the events of that morning in St. Augustine and was moved to question whether M. de Chagny was acquainted with Frederik Wentworth. She was deterred from her inquiry by Elizabeth's interruption. "Here you are, Raoul. I was looking over the entryway and wanted to know whether you would keep the original lighting fixtures along the walls. They give the place a 1980's appeal, do they not? I should be pleased to help you find a decent interior designer."

"I would be most indebted to you if you would put your excellent mind to work on it. I have no thought as to whom I should consult, though I know that I should need someone presently."

They were descending toward the entryway with Anne and Penelope behind them. "It is very nice, is it not?" Elizabeth's friend asked Anne.

"Yes, very," was her response. The younger sister was watching the features of the fair-haired man as he talked candidly to Elizabeth. He stopped at the foot of the stair and did not cross her path, but waited until the older sister should continue before him. He was well-refined in manner and judgment. His brief words to her showed her as much, while his actions completed the portrait. Even the glimpse of concern she had witnessed for his friend, Wallis, displayed the man's goodness. Anne found him even more attractive than she had first considered him to be.

At home that afternoon, Anne found the online reply from the Captain:

_Dear Anne,_

_I was happy to have finally received some indication that you are doing well. You do not need to apologize; it has been a hectic time for us all, but a blessed time. I have thought much on your advice to me a few weeks ago and have been reading a few of the books you suggested, along with your favored work. I'll even venture to add that I believe my mind to be improving, though not completely owing to the perusal of literature. I wish you the best, my friend. Louisa sends her love to you._

_With appreciation and deepest regard,_

_James Benwick_

She read the epistle over twice. She felt some disappointment that he did not mention a trip to visit her. She admitted she had hoped that her response would have aided in the solidification of his plans to come to the city. Benwick was an agreeable man, and she liked him. Yet, their acquaintance had been stymied so abruptly that she had not had sufficient time to consider how she felt. In the past few weeks, she found she had all but forgotten the sentiments to which his subtle remarks had hinted. Perhaps it was for the best that the friendship had remained in its infancy, though she would miss their talks.

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**Ana-Misa: Excellent question about Gina; I need to go back and be more specific there. She was not in Paris, but roomed with Anne in New York at one point. Gina is taking the place of the former governess which J.A.'s Anne visits and, through her, learns of Mrs. Smith. I haven't decided which day, Monday or Thursday, to update yet. If you have a preference, I'll go with your choice.**

**bluetinkerbell: I'm glad you like the story even if my Anne is not so delightful as J.A.'s. :sigh: If you don't mind, could you give me examples where I stray from the original character? Maybe I can fix it. Thanks for your reflections; they are needed.**


	47. Rewarding Company

**A/N: I had every intention of beginning the Thursday only updates, but I have to post this chapter. This fanfic has had over 15,000 hits, and readership seems to be climbing. So, yey! I want to show how grateful I am.**

Chapter 47 – Rewarding Company

Three days passed before Anne could return Georgina Sorelli's visit. The year since the former roommates had seen each other melted away as the dancer opened the door.

"Anne! Why, you look splendid. What have you been doing to get such a glowing complexion?"

"Gina, I was so excited to get your note. I just returned from my summer holiday."

"Yes, I thought so," the tall woman hugged her friend. Anne picked up the scent of garlic in Gina's dark, chin-length ringlets.

"You've been cooking. So, I take it things are going well."

"Marvelously. Can you believe it? I am the choreographer for the _Siren of the Laconia_! I'm sure you've heard of it?"

"Oh, yes. It has developed quite a following abroad, I believe."

"I know. I know! It's too much pressure, but oh! I never thought I would finally get a chance to choreograph another musical." The bright blue eyes of Georgina Sorelli were dancing themselves as she laughed and directed her friend to the sofa. Anne sat down, her forearm still held by her friend. "Don't think that I don't enjoy being an instructor. It is just…this is my passion!"

"I understand," responded Anne. "It is so wonderful for you! May I ask what you are working on presently?"

"Presently, we are in the midst of Americanizing the dances. There are at least three different styles of dance in this piece. Oh, and there is a ballet, but I haven't given great attention to that yet. I believe the director is still waiting for information concerning whether to continue with it, or if it will be completely reworked." Gina, bubbling over with her enthusiasm, exclaimed, "And look at this room! Isn't it just perfect? Of course, I must have two roommates. It is amazing what studios are going for here; I feel like a euphoric sardine!" Anne smiled happily to her friend and congratulated her again.

"What has happened since I've been away? Have you been able to complete your doctorate?" Gina turned to examine Anne's face and saw her expression turn meditative.

"I still lack the performance recital and final oral exam. I am not concerned about the exam, but you know my disinclination to sing publicly. I have not sung in a true performance in three years, only for the jury. Yet, my degree will require it." The singer spoke with a tone of quiet reconciliation.

"Do you mean an actual part in a concert or theatrical role?"

"Precisely."

"Ah, and shy little Anne Elliot won't go on stage. Now I see." Gina traced Anne's face with her eyes; it was obvious to the singer that the dancer thought this an easy obstacle to overcome. Yet, never had the quiet woman told her former roommate the reasons behind her disinterest in performing again.

"So, if you did perform-,"

"It won't happen, dearest."

"Humor me. If you did take a theatrical part, how would you work it out with the school? You would have to take a leave from teaching for a short period…"

"They are being very flexible. My French dictation classes could be covered for one semester by another instructor. Methods in Voice would be more difficult to fill, along with the private instruction I give. Yet, once I completed the season, I could resume teaching. In fact, I was even told to consider taking this fall to put the last requirement behind me. I admit I've been tempted to try," she said with a shrug. "But, I'm not ready. Had I begun to look for a position this past spring, I might have had a chance to land a part by the fall, I suppose. But here is another semester…,"

"And you've gone and buried those gorgeous cords of yours in the sand again." Gina finished for her. "You aren't doing New York City a favor, that's for certain."

Anne's sad expression caused her friend to hug her again. "Oh, I didn't mean to upset you. You know me; I think before I speak. Or is it, 'speak before I think'?" Gina shrugged. "So much has happened. I just can't help but feel that things are going so splendidly for me that they should be the same for you."

Anne smiled. "And I am ever so happy for you!"

"Come. Have some Manicotti Florentine. I wasn't going to share, but it will be a peace-offering."

"Anne, you have not called in ever so long. I was beginning to think you had forgotten us," complained Mary when the younger sister answered her cell.

"Not at all. I have been hoping to hear from you, as well. Is Louisa home now?"

"Oh, yes! She has been home for two evenings. We had quite a gathering last night. There were the Harvilles and their children, Benwick, and I suppose I should mention Charles Hayter. I wish you could have been present. Of course, you are probably too busy with all of Dad's functions and events to think on our little affairs here."

"I have missed you, Mary."

"How are Dad and Elizabeth? They have been terrible at communicating of late. I feel very left out with all of you in New York. I am trying to persuade Charles that we should come for a visit. Just a short one, of course."

"Dad is looking well, and Elizabeth seems to be settled. They are very busy with entertaining our cousin."

"Our cousin? Raoul, you mean?" asked Mary, surprised. "The vicomte? Why, Elizabeth never told me! Oh!"

"Yes, he has been here for a few months." Anne informed her sister of her cousin's loss and was taken aback by Mary's response.

"Well, Elizabeth will be happy for that, I daresay."

"What do you mean?"

"I remember when we first heard the news that Raoul was to marry; Elizabeth was furious. After his visit, when my uncle had passed, she had been convinced they were perfect for one another. He seemed attentive to her, and they corresponded, I believe. Then he stopped calling, and she would not try to contact him. She disliked the thought of his thinking her too interested. Then the wedding invitation came. She was so angry, she tore it up."

Anne was surprised by this new knowledge of a previous relationship between Elizabeth and Raoul. Suddenly her sister's comments regarding the vicomte's feelings for his deceased wife made sense.

"_Eight years is a long time to be married when you aren't in love with a person."_

She now perceived that Elizabeth had been glad there had been no deep attachment on his part; her older sister rejoiced that he had had a lengthy time to contemplate what she considered his mistake.

"Is he still very handsome?" asked Mary, somewhat wistfully. Anne admitted that he was. "Well, I shall have to call my sister and make my sentiments known. She should have told me such news herself!"

"I'm sure she did not mean to keep it from you. She probably assumed someone else had informed you already," Anne replied.

"Well, who else did she expect to tell me? I am always the last to know what happens; it is very hard, sister. And I'm sure he is very interested in her."

After trying for more news regarding the Musgroves and ascertaining that Louisa was truly well and happy, Anne spoke with the boys and ended the call. All was well, and she could relax in the knowledge that Louisa's family was basking in the relief that their eldest daughter was with them again.

The next evening Anne happened upon Raoul on her way to Valeria's dinner party, held in honor of her return. She smiled and greeted him as they entered the elevator together. "We are fated to cross paths, it seems," he commented.

"I hope you don't find it disagreeable."

"Not at all. Quite the contrary. There are some I could not say the same for, but you… Yes, I find it very agreeable. Are you enjoying being at home again, or do you find you are wishing your vacation had not ended so soon?" Raoul read Anne's expression and laughed. "I suppose we would all answer the question the same; a vacation is never long enough. But I did wonder how you felt after such an event of the sort which happened to your friend." Raoul explained that her family had informed him of the lighthouse incident. "I should think such an occurrence would not have you wishing to return, or at least to be unwilling to revisit St. Augustine so soon."

"No. I do not feel that way." The door to the elevator opened, and the vicomte allowed Anne to pass before him into the hallway. "I suppose if Louisa had not made such a full recovery, it would have been different. But she is well; she is quite improved, according to my sister."

Raoul rang the bell. "I am glad," he stated, "both for her recovery and your feelings of St. Augustine. I was quite taken by the town myself. I think I should like to return to it someday."

"It is very beautiful," agreed Anne.

"There you are, my dear! Your father and sister have already arrived." Valeria kissed her god-child on the cheek. "Ah, Raoul! So lovely to have you. The Wallises are here - I was afraid Mrs. Wallis might still be indisposed. She looks extremely well tonight."

Anne doubted not that the seating arrangements had been especially designed to further aid the conversation of Raoul and herself. He was seated beside her, while Valeria and Elizabeth were positioned nearer the head of the table with her father. The Franklands and their youngest daughter, Mina, along with the Ibbotsons, were also present. Penelope Clay had been placed near the opposite end from The Great Elliot. Raoul conversed with Alicia Frankland and Mr. Ibbotson as much as was considered mannerly, while Anne found the majority of the vicomte's attention bestowed upon her.

"You are very close to your sister's family in California, I understand?"

"Yes." Anne spoke of her sister's in-laws, of Mary's husband's profession, and their two boys.

"Might I ask," he lowered his voice, "whether you find their topics of conversation as riveting as the one being introduced at the head of the table at present?" Anne turned to hear what was being discussed in that locale.

"I know no better formula to aid the complexion than that of Gowland. I have used it for twenty years if I have used it a day. It is far superior to your face cream, Valeria, I assure you." Walter Elliot spoke with authoritative condescension.

Anne looked down to her plate, trying to contain her smile. When she looked up, Raoul's eyes were laughing. "Yet," his expression grew serious, "I hope you will not think I do not find pleasure in this company."

"No. I do understand. I, myself, sometimes wish the conversation were more…"

"Substantial?"

Finding that Raoul understood her desire for better thoughts and feelings made her more open to disclose her opinion to him. "There is a pleasure to be found in being with those whose words have more purpose than one's own interest and enjoyment at all times. To think about the concerns of someone else, instead of the constant comparisons related to the shortcomings of others; that is what draws my attention."

"Ah, to be in conversation with a group such as this is pleasing enough to those who will go home to solitude. But to be in company with friends whose thoughts and considerations are both knowledgeable and sensible; that is most rewarding of all!"

Anne concurred readily. She greatly admired the good thoughts of the man before her. He regarded her for some moments before adding, "I think I shall find ample pleasure in discussing many subjects with you."

"Penelope! Come here!" Mrs. Clay removed herself from her place beside Mina Frankland to attend Walter Elliot.

"Give attention to her nose," Walter Elliot said, pointing to that object on Mrs. Clay's countenance. "The redness is all but disappeared now, and her looks are very much improved." Anne perceived that Valeria would hardly look at the woman.

"We shall have our dessert in the gathering room," the hostesses announced abruptly.

Elizabeth made her way to Raoul's side at once, charging Anne, beside him, "You have hardly spoken to the Ibbotsons at all. It is for you that they attended, do not forget. You should remember what is proper, Anne."

Subsequently, Anne took her leave of Raoul to speak with Greta Ibbotson. She felt that she had not been as hospitable as she should and owned that the reason for her inattentiveness was due to her interest in the charming Raoul de Chagny.

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**Ana-Misa: Even though Mrs. Harville packed the box, Frederik had to have had something to do with the **_**Siren's Song**_** getting into it. Now, whether he replaced the scarf...hmmm… Oh, I'm thrilled you enjoyed the "peacock;" I had loads of fun with Elliot's speech. There will be more about the school and Anne's decisions to accompany her father to events.**

**Zallah: What a treat to find you noticed the parallels! I'm so glad you are enjoying the POTO notes, too. I'm also grateful that you are still reading.**

**Misty Breyer: Ah, you've thought about the reemergence of the POTO characters. I'm in the midst of writing the concert "scene" and I'll just say, 'the Erik/Christine aspect is so delicious!!'**

**bluetinkerbell: In Leroux's POTO, it is Raoul who knew Christine when they were children, and they were far too young to be considering marriage. Erik only met Christine when she came to the Opera Populaire. Her father and mother were both deceased, though her father had been a virtuoso violinist and taught her to love music as a child. Hope this helps.**


	48. A Distressing Situation

Chapter 48

Anne answered her ringing cell at nine o'clock that evening. "I have the hugest favor to ask of you. Would you consider having a roommate for a couple of days?"

"You know you are always welcome here, Gina."

"It is not I. You see, we have a dancer; she only just arrived. She is French and seems to be experiencing culture shock. We have no room for her, and well, I think she would do much better in a quieter environment. You went to school in France, and I know you speak the language. I thought it might help her to stay with you until she becomes acclimated."

"Of course, I will take her."

"You're amazing. And it will not be for long. I know you start back in what, a week?"

"A week and four days."

"She will have a place by then, I'm sure."

"It will not be a problem. Should I come to your place and collect her?"

"No. I intend to escort her over tonight."

Anne was silent on the other end, considering what she would need to do to prepare for her guest. "One of the production assistants just showed up at the door with her and told us she needed a place for a couple of days. I gather she is here to audition for the ballet piece. I'm sorry to do this to you."

"No, no! When shall I expect her?"

Anne could hear the smile in her friend's voice. "We are on our way now." When Anne did not reply (she was smiling at the faith her friend had in her acquiescence), Gina added, "I knew you would help me out. I'm such a pest, aren't I?"

Anne laughed aloud and responded. "Do I have fifteen minutes to ready the room?"

"Mmmm, just about that, I'd say." Anne hung up the phone and raced to get the second bedroom in order.

Sliding the pillow into the case, she heard the familiar triple buzz at the street and hastened to grant entrance to her friend. Moments later Gina's knock sounded, and Anne opened the door to her. The hostess nearly fell against it in amazement when she perceived who accompanied her friend. Beside Gina stood the older, but nevertheless very evident figure of Meg Giry.

"Anne! Je suis rève!" she said with an astonished expression.

"Meg!" The hostess reached out to her guest, who immediately flung herself into the woman's arms with evident desperation.

"Do I detect a reunion?" asked Gina, startled by the reactions of the two women.

"I knew her in school," explained Anne, hardly believing that the grown woman beside her was really little Meg.

"Well, then, no introductions are needed."

"Where is her luggage?"

"There was none but this." Sorelli lifted a small suitcase. "She must have been in a hurry. I'll leave you to get reacquainted." Gina winked and blew a grateful kiss to Anne before she departed.

Meg would hardly allow Anne to extricate herself, even when the hostess offered to get the dancer a drink and was accepted. "You cannot know how it has been. I am so happy to see you," Meg stated when she finally detached herself from Anne. The twenty-year-old sat back on the loveseat in the room and took a sip of tea tremulously. It was time enough for Anne to note the dark circles under her eyes. The girl, for she still looked every bit girlish with her slender figure in jeans and a baby-doll shirt, was in a constant state of movement and distress.

"Your mother, is she well?" asked Anne, remembering that Frederik had been with her recently.

"Oh, Anne, she is not!" The tears were welling up in Meg's large, green eyes.

"I am so sorry. I didn't know," she hugged Meg's shoulders again. After the girl became more tranquil, she told Anne, "She is very ill, and has known of it for some time. When the pain became too much for her to walk, I gave up my place with the Company to take care of her. She was angry because I did it without her consent. She refused to let me stay with her, and I refused to return to work. I could not! She wanted Uncle Erik to persuade me, but I was adamant. Finally, she agreed to allow him to rent a small apartment, which he actuated a week ago and hired a full-time nurse for her. I will be with her every weekend, which is more than I could have been had I gone back to Paris. Still, I cannot but want to be by my Maman. I am so distraught!"

Anne said nothing, but her sympathetic gaze persuaded the dancer to unburden the concerns that weighed on her troubled heart.

"Now, I am here and I do not know what to do." Meg shrugged her shoulders in hopelessness, her wavy caramel tresses falling into her face. "Maman is determined that I should see this move as an opportunity to further my profession, but I can not. I can not!" Meg burst into tears. "I must be with her," she sobbed.

"Is that why you were brought to Gina? Your mother wants you to audition for the ballet in Frederik's theatrical?"

"Yes. It was the only way she would promise to come to the U.S., if I continued with my work. She is afraid my career will be halted and I will lose my following if I leave the stage for any significant period of time." The tired girl rested her head on Anne's shoulder. It was evident that Meg was too exhausted to think any further.

"You are sleepy, Meg. You must try for some rest."

"Oh, I am glad it was you! Oh, Anne, I thought it was dream. But I am so glad."

Once she finally heard the sounds from the second room grow quieter, Anne dressed for bed and thought about the situation. Sophia and Meg were both in New York, and their situation was distressing. Even the news that Frederik had returned troubled Anne. He was trying to care for his sister, recuperating from Louisa's tragedy, and making preparations for his theatrical debut. What the man must be suffering; torn between his sister, his love, and his music! She would do everything in her power to make the transition easier for Meg. Not only for the girl's own sake, but for Frederik's as well.

"I have a stop to make before we take in the avenue," Valeria informed Anne when she met with her the next day. "I hope you will not be too impatient to shop."

Anne smiled, "I have never been one to be very intrigued with a shopping excursion. You know that."

"Then, we will mostly window-shop today; it will be great exercise." To this Anne acquiesced.

"I plan to have another dinner party soon. What do you think of Friday? I will invite the Franklands and the Wallises again. Your father was very taken with Mrs. Wallis. You should not have retired so early the other evening or you would have heard his words of admiration on her delightful complexion. Raoul and I agreed that there was much to admire in her features." Valeria looked to Anne while mentioning the vicomte. Anne did not respond, merely acknowledged that she had comprehended her godmother's speech. Elizabeth had taken up much of M. de Chagny's attention when the diners removed to the sitting room. Once the guests had wished their hostess a good night, and Anne conversed with Penelope Clay until there had been no more polite conversation to be had with the woman, she had thought it best to thank her godmother and return home.

"It is short notice for your father," mused Mrs. Russell, returning to the topic of her dinner party, "but if he should decline, I'm sure we will bear it as best we can. And, of course, it would never do not to invite Raoul."

"I have no plans for Friday. I would love to come to dinner," responded Anne. She told herself she was not averse to another dinner with Raoul. She knew that this was the motive of Valeria's impromptu scheme. Her father might very well decline the invitation due to its hasty nature, but she doubted Elizabeth would be persuaded to do so when the vicomte was expected. It would be best to take the offer and allow the situation to show her godmother that the man's interest lay elsewhere. For, he had spent much time in Elizabeth Elliot's company of late. If she had felt it would not be inconsiderate to her sister's feelings, Anne would have told Valeria of Elizabeth's history with M. de Chagny which Mary had divulged. Her sense of discretion would not allow her to disclose the dearest wish of Elizabeth's heart; for she loved her sister and did not desire to embarrass her. Elizabeth Elliot despised the thought that any should consider her "smitten" with a man; she was quite aware of her fine figure, excellent breeding, beautiful countenance, and the value of all of these attributes. She would never let it be said that she had stooped to capture a man's attention, and Anne well understood this.

"I would invite Dame Dalrymple," Valeria continued. "For she is all your father converses on. Yet, I am not personally acquainted with her or her daughter. You can imagine your father's excitement over the opening this coming Saturday; and, I daresay, I am looking forward to it, as well. The Dame was kind enough to extend a personal invitation to me. I have no doubt your father had a hand in that." Mrs. Russell nodded to Anne, who felt as though she were being thanked for her own influence on the matter. The small woman saw very little importance in the event of the spa opening. It afforded her family the happiness in flaunting their celebrity, she reasoned. Yet, it disturbed her that her godmother should feel that an honor had been bestowed in being specially asked to attend. What was truly so estimable in being present at a pampering gala? Anne felt that in this she and her friend differed greatly. Appearance and rank had some sway with Valeria Russell, where Anne was predisposed to think a worthy mind and generous heart merited the greatest esteem.

Mrs. Russell took a moment to handle her affairs, and, while waiting, Anne contemplated revealing the particulars of Meg's visit. Surely, it would be best to speak of it and not allow the news to break forth on her godmother as had happened on her return after Louisa's fall. Yet, to bring up his family would necessarily bring up Frederik. As much as she respected and loved Valeria Russell, she knew her friend well; it was very clear that her godmother did not enjoy speaking of the man. For, it brought to light memories from the past that were distasteful to both. It still hurt her to think how vigilant Valeria had been in the last few weeks of Anne's last year.

"_How are your _Romeo and Juliet _rehearsals?"_

"_Other than being increasingly nervous about the performance, I feel they are going well," Anne stated into the receiver quietly. She felt a sense of resentment toward her godmother. Valeria was aware of it. It continually created silence when they communicated with one another over the phone._

"_I will arrive on Wednesday, and I am bringing a friend of your father's."_

"_Who?"_

"_She is a voice instructor and has worked with many talented singers. Hopefully she'll be able to relieve your anxieties." Anne knew what Valeria would not say; this was the older woman's way of replacing Erik. A simmering anger grew inside the eighteen-year-old. "How have classes been?"_

"_Hard, but it is only because we are being pressed to turn in our assignments the week before the performance. Then we will get a bit of a reprieve to concentrate on the dress rehearsal before the shows." Anne released a troubled sigh into the phone._

"_You will be so impressive, my dear. You do not need to be anxious."_

"_That is why you are soliciting a new voice instructor, I imagine; because, I am already so prepared." Her words were sarcastic. She could hardly keep her irritation from overflowing. Being away from Erik was worse than she had anticipated. She felt a physical ache in her chest, and it throbbed there moment after moment. It was almost as though she were addicted to him and enduring the pangs of withdrawal. She wanted to scream out at times. Even though she had promised her godmother, she had secretly awaited some message from him. At first she had told herself she would not respond, but as time went by and the message did not come, she let go her resolve. What had happened to him? Why did he not contact her? She had considered going to Sophia, but her promise to Valeria kept her from it. Frederik's sister had never addressed her. She had nodded once or twice when their paths had crossed; deliberately, as though she knew of her, but that was all. Perhaps he had decided the separation was best; just as he had done before she had made him tell her he loved her. Had he only said it to persuade her to leave? No, she could not believe it. He loved her. Surely, nothing had changed that!_

"_Anne, she is a friend of your father's. When I told her about you, she was so excited to meet you, and I thought now would be as good a time as any."_

"_I'm sorry. Yes, I understand," she answered repentantly._

"_Besides, you are going to need a good instructor when you leave the school, and she is one of the best. If you work with her, you might even find you like her and want to continue under her tutelage after you graduate."_

_Anne had liked Madame Martyniere. She was not supercilious as she had expected. She was a small, elderly woman with a mighty voice. She was surprised at how well Anne sang, and the method she used. "Who taught you this technique?" she asked the girl._

"_I -," Anne dropped her eyes._

"_Oh. I have been informed that your last instructor was very beneficial in some areas while not so beneficial in others." The woman winked at her and gave her a knowing smile. "We will not speak of that. But I am still surprised at your knowledge. What the man taught you was either a sign of his expertise or foolishness' fortune. This method you use is very dangerous to the voice for some. But he has trained you well. There are some who have tried it and stripped their cords. Ruined them! And never did they return to the same timbre." She looked worriedly at the girl before her, then patted Anne's arm. "Your voice is ready, though. It is ready, and I will help you to polish your skill for the performance. It will be a joy." She pulled out the pieces Anne had been practicing. "The Juliet role is perfectly suited. But how are you with the other?" She motioned to the _Bell Song

_Anne began the piece, and soon the teacher was nodding. "Well-sung; I am amazed! I myself would like to meet this instructor of yours!" At Anne's troubled expression, the woman quickly amended her statement. "I did not mean to alarm you, my dear. Let us begin our lesson."_

_Madame Martyniere had taught her to embrace the emotion and expression of the music. She introduced an elaborative technique, instructing that Anne use it sparingly. "This is a soulfully dramatic expression only for pieces with great feeling, lyrical feeling. You must practice it, and it will become easier for you."_

_Yet, Anne was beside herself all the while that she practiced for _Romeo and Juliet_. Where was Erik? When she sang the duet, _Ange Adorable_, in the last performance, the most attended showing, she sang for him. She called to him with each phrase and note, and her voice took on a purity and appeal that was not lost on her listeners. But especially, it was not lost on one who had written to her that he would wait in the corridor._

Anne decided it would be best to leave matters as they lay. Surely the truth would come about in a more palatable manner than for her to speak of it abruptly. The two women entered a few shops, but mostly strolled down the street while Valeria spoke of the gossip regarding some of the well-known residents of the area.

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**A/N: I am not sticking with Leroux's description of Meg. Martyniere was the maiden name of Raoul's deceased mother in POTO. You may have noticed I've changed Meg's age. (Chapter 6 reflects this, as well.)**

**Misty Breyer: You're right: I shouldn't worry so much about the updates. It's the perfectionist fiend in me!! Aack. Yes, Wallis was a friend of William Elliot's in the book. Though he seemed to be a kind man, he wasn't very memorable, imo.**

**Ana-Misa: Ah, do I sense that you've decided about Raoul? You do have Benwick's letter pegged; excellent sleuth work. I like Mrs. Smith, too, and hope that you will still find her character the same in this story, though her name and connections are changed, somewhat. Can you guess who she is going to be? Thursday it is, then. Thanks!**

**followthestory: I enjoy love triangles, too. Speaking of love, I was destined to fall for a new **_**Persuasion**_** fic you recently began, when suddenly it disappeared! I do hope you'll repost it. All I can say about the wait for Frederik's reentry is: I think it's really going to be worth it! At least, I hope you'll feel the same.**

**bluetinkerbell: There goes that perfectionist fiend again. It growls in my ear and says, "Your Anne is not good enough!" Yet, I'm so glad you like my Anne. I meant for her to be immature and impulsive in the past, and then grow up, hopefully, to imitate J.A.'s Anne; kind of showing how she became who she was. (The gentle and quiet spirit of the character J.A. made is such a beautiful portrait of womanhood to me.) Your review reminds me of how blessed I am to have such intelligent readers willing to help me! And, I'm not saying that because you complimented my story, honestly. You clarified your thoughts so beautifully.**

**Lady Susan: (sheepish grin) Thanks for reminding me in the kindest, most considerate way that I am so conceited to think I could even come close to Austen's characters. (sigh) Oh, but I love how she writes.**


	49. Appointments and Disappointments

Chapter 49 – Appointments and Disappointments

They were seated for lunch inside a little café surrounded by the aroma of Italian spices, when a limousine pulled up at the curb on the opposite side of the street. Anne could hardly suppress her surprise in seeing Frederik step out of the vehicle. He was wearing sunglasses, accompanied by a bodyguard, and headed to the door of a shop. She quickly turned her head away. He was some distance from her position at the window; his back was to her as he entered the establishment. She doubted he glimpsed her at all. Now a small crowd had begun to gather, stopping up the flow of shoppers on that August day, which included a few photographers. Anne knew it was possible that Valeria might wonder who might be shopping on the avenue that particular moment. Would she recognize the famous man? Surely she had seen pictures of him! If not, the question would certainly arise; who was the celebrity? For Valeria was ever interested in the goings-on of the upper crust. Anne prepared herself for the introduction: 'Why that is Mr. Wentworth. I suppose he is much at work on his production.' Yes, that would be a simple, yet clarifying response. The subject would then be broached, making it less formidable to mention him thereafter. She waited and watched out of the corner of her eye for Frederik to emerge, paying specific attention to her godmother's face, as the older woman was in possession of a full view of the street. Valeria Russell was speaking of Dame Dalrymple's arrival in New York again when she stopped abruptly and looked deliberately on some object in the avenue. Anne did not turn but waited, her heart beating rapidly against her ribs, for the older woman to question or identify the man.

"You are probably surprised at my inattention, Anne," she began after the pause. "I apologize. I was told by Alicia Frankland that there were some exquisite draperies in one of the shop displays that she had custom ordered for her morning room," Mrs. Russell explained. "I could not recall the store name. But look there and tell me if you do not think those would be very like Alicia's taste?" Anne looked to the shop, noting that Frederik's limo had gone, and agreed they looked to be of the caliber that Mrs. Frankland might hang. They were served their meal; and as Mrs. Russell's attention was taken away by the server, she did not see the disappointed expression cross Anne's features. The younger woman had been doubly served; Valeria was not any the wiser regarding Frederik's arrival, nor had Anne been given an opportunity to address the man and perceive the state of his mind.

"We have three girls, Miss Elliot. Two are eleven years old, and one is fourteen. They all have expressed a desire to sing, and their teachers maintain that they are very talented. Would you be willing to work with them?" asked the _Note_d Youth coordinator when Anne stopped by the organization's office a day later.

"I would be delighted."

"Two are sisters. You will probably be able to instruct both in one block of time."

"If I might have their contacts? I will email you when I know my schedule."

"Now, you know it is our policy to have you correspond through the office." He paused and eyed her with feigned reproof. "But I think I can bend policy for you, provided you keep records for our front office like you did last year." He copied down the information for her.

"Of course. I will check with the front desk to ascertain if anything has changed before I make the initial call," promised Anne.

"Wonderful. We appreciate the time you give-,"

"It is nothing. Have a good day." As she approached the front entrance to leave, she heard a familiar voice and found Edward Wentworth speaking with the receptionist.

"You will need to speak with our director regarding such a donation, but I am sure I can get you in. Would you please take a seat?" asked the woman behind the desk. He turned to the chairs in the lobby and found Anne Elliot standing behind him.

"Good morning, Edward."

"Well! I was hoping I'd meet with you soon, but I didn't expect it to be this effortless. How are you?"

"I am well. Have you and Laticia arrived, then?"

"Yes, although it is earlier than we had planned to be here." Edward motioned to the petite woman to sit with him. His voice was hushed as he stated, "We have come to be near my sister. Did you know Sophia Giry? I believe you might have met her…"

"Yes, I remember her, and I have seen Meg. I understand from her that Sophia is ill?"

"Yes. Frederik brought her to the States this past weekend. She is renting a small apartment outside the city. Laticia is with her now, and I am to make arrangements for our residence here in town. Sophie is a hard one; she is determined that we handle things just as though she were not nearby."

Anne's expression was serious as she asked, "How is she taking the move?"

Edward was shaking his head, looking down momentarily. "It has been difficult for her, but it was the only compromise to which Frederik could convince her to concede. I am sorry for her; she is in a great amount of pain. I hope, once she settles in, she will have some relief." Frederik's brother patted her hand. It was a gesture meant to console the woman, for her face showed great distress.

Anne asked hesitantly, "And Frederik; is he well?"

"I feel for him right now. He is consumed with the musical and caring for Sophie. I hope our being here will give him some reprieve." He smiled, changing his tone. "But we should not dwell on the bad. I called Richard before we left and ascertained that the Musgrove girl is home now. I am sure they are all relieved to have her so much improved."

"Yes, I am sure they are," responded Anne.

"Mr. Wentworth," spoke the director, as she introduced herself.

Anne wished Edward a good day before leaving, and took the subway to her office at the Archibald School of Music where she hoped to continue in her preparation for the coming year. She stopped at the administration offices to retrieve her mail.

"Good morning, Ms. Mclean," greeted Anne. The administrative secretary looked up over her glasses and a nodded a pleasant welcome.

"You look as though the California sun has done you well," commented Mary Mclean. She set down her pen and came around the desk.

"Yes. How was your summer?" Anne replied, as she followed the secretary into the mail room.

"I spent mine in Hartsford with my daughter. It was splendid, but for the broken leg."

"You broke your leg?"

"Oh no, dear. My daughter did. That was why I was with her."

"I'm sure she appreciated your visit, then."

The gray-haired woman handed her a small stack of various stapled packets of paper. "This is information on the new policies, the year at a glance, etc. which you will go over in the faculty address on Monday morning." Ms. Mclean returned to her desk, while Anne went through the mail she retrieved from her box. She found the invoice requesting payment for the next semester. She sighed perceptibly. She had been applying for a continuance in the doctoral program, putting off the last requirement, for over a year. Anne had not divulged all of the communication she'd had with the dean in the spring of the year to her friend, Gina. Not only had she been urged to take a hiatus from teaching to fulfill the program's requirements, the Archibald School of Music would no longer allow her to waive the costs of keeping her records and memberships up-to-date, regardless of her "instructor" status. She reflected on her conversation with the dean last spring:

"_Realize I say this to encourage your continuance of study: For three semesters you have not pursued the necessary steps to attain your doctorate. You must understand how the school wishes to have another professor with a Ph.D. in the department." Drew Brigden looked sympathetic, and appealed, "Please, do not imagine we don't appreciate the hard work you put forth in your instruction."_

"_No. I do understand."_

"_And you have given two extraordinary arias for the school concert, as well as the piece for our guest speaker three years ago. But you cannot say that the school hasn't worked with you, bending recital policies in the past. Your final recital must be something more challenging than a school-appointed performance."_

_The dean waited, but Anne's thoughts were not forthcoming. He sighed, "As it is, we cannot continue to waive the tuition when you do not make efforts to attain the degree. Remember, we are willing to have another teacher fill in for you in the fall, should you require it," he continued, standing up to reach out his hand to her. "All you need to do is inform Mary in administration that you will be performing, and she will aid you in filling out the paperwork."_

_As Anne shook the dean's hand and left the office, she felt extremely downcast. She knew what she had to do, but had no intentions of doing it._

Then the news had come of her father's financial straits, and Anne left off thinking about her own troubles to assist her family with theirs. But their removal from Malibu had come at a bad time. She had spent what funds she'd been able to set aside on rent. By allowing her family to live in her flat and paying the extra fees for the additional occupants, she had been unable to sublet the second room in her apartment; something she had always done to make ends meet. She wished the school had allowed her one more semester. It seemed she would truly have to give up the program now.

Before leaving, Anne applied to Ms. Mclean about any information regarding teachers looking for living quarters. The secretary had no leads but promised to contact her if she heard of anything. Anne posted her number on the teachers' boards, collected her files, and left the school that day feeling glum.

"I wanted to thank you again for letting me stay with you for those two nights and driving me to practice." Meg sounded far more relaxed over the phone as opposed to the nervous state she had been in the first night she had spent in Anne's abode.

"Of course. How are you settling in with Edward and Laticia?"

"I am becoming reconciled that I cannot be with her," responded Meg unhappily, speaking of her mother. "But my uncle has made plans for us to go to her on Friday morning, instead of waiting until Saturday. This suits me well, since I am to audition on Tuesday and would wish to be well-rested." Anne overheard her say quietly, "I will be able to rest once I know that Maman is better."

"Are you feeling comfortable with your selection for the audition then?" asked Anne, hoping to take the girl's mind off of her anxieties over her mother.

"I believe so. I've seen it performed, and so I am familiar with the combinations. I have been practicing for the tryouts all the week."

"That is good." The conversation lagged, and Anne offered, "We should meet for lunch one day. I have one more week before my classes-,"

"Would you be willing to go with me this weekend to see Maman?" The question was abrupt, as though the younger woman was desirous of asking all along but was fearful of hearing the wrong response. "I am sorry to give you so little notice, but she has mentioned you twice. And the last time I spoke with her, she told me that she would like to see you, if you could take the time." Anne did not respond. She was thinking of her plans to be at the Dalrymple Opening. Meg continued disappointedly, "Perhaps another weekend you might consider-,"

"I know your mother's situation. If she wishes to see me, then I will break my previous engagement."

"Thank you. It means so much to me. It will be two nights only. Uncle Erik is in Florida, and Edward and Tisha will return home in the evening; so you will have a room all your own."

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**A/N: Remember the name "Brigden" from **_**Persuasion**_

**followthestory: I feel so badly that I cannot throw in more Frederik. Yes, when Frederik sees things between Raoul and Anne, how will he take it? And, will Anne perceive Frederik's reaction to Raoul? I'm so pleased you liked Gina! I am also gleefully excited to have your reviews again. Thank you.**

**Ana-Misa: Yes, yes! What **_**will**_** Anne do! She is in such a quandary. She must perform, but she hasn't a desire in the world to do so. She hasn't sought out an opportunity; and, of course, opportunities to perform on Broadway do not fall in one's lap! Or do they? ;) You must admit, Raoul is very appealing. He listens to Anne; he's certainly interested in her thoughts. He's rather yummy.**

**Misty Breyer: I have bad news: the concert scene is not for some time. There are a few events that must be got through beforehand, so I hope you'll enjoy the anticipation of it for a little while. No, Sorelli has no connections with what happened in France in this story. I'm so excited that you are excited!! Thanks!**

**Lady Susan: ; ) Agreed.**

**bluetinkerbell: I admit, I'm still contemplating having Raoul end up with Anne. The more I write about him, the more he charms me. I can see his teasing smile in my mind's eye as I type this. Oh, he's very persuasive. (chuckling)**


	50. Braving Walter Elliot's Displeasure

**A/N: I received so many delightful reviews the last chapter that I must show my gratitude by updating. And, it didn't hurt that followthestory and Nonny dropped hints that they wouldn't mind seeing an extra post. You must be psychic, full0fgrace!**

Chapter 50 – Braving Walter Elliot's Displeasure

The day before she was to travel out of the city, Anne found she would have to overcome her apprehension and contact her godmother to tell her about the visit with Sophia. She could not explain her cancellation for Valeria's dinner party without touching on the pressing importance of her trip. It would necessarily bring up the visit from Meg and the presence of Frederik's brother, though she could not bring herself to speak of Frederik. She allowed the implication of her message to apprise her godmother of his part in the care of his sister. Valeria took the news considerably well, although she was slightly hurt that Anne had not told her of the Girys before. When she expressed her feelings, her goddaughter apologized.

"I hoped that you would understand... the tenderness of the subject…"

"But that is all over. There is no reason to avoid mentioning the past now," her godmother averred. Valeria hesitated, then spoke matter-of-factly. "Nor should we try to avoid speaking of the name, Frederik Wentworth. It would be quite ridiculous with his theatrical premiering in a little over a month." She did not dwell on him, though. "So, you will also give up the Dalrymple Grand Opening to fulfill Sophia Giry's request."

"That is so," stated Anne, concerned that Valeria would not look well on the matter.

"Do you wish me to break the news to your father and sister?" Relief was felt by the small woman at her godmother's response, but she declined and stated she would bear the brunt of her decision.

"Very well. Tell me what time I may drop you by Edward and Laticia's." When Anne did not respond – for, she was surprised at this supportive gesture - Valeria remarked, "Well, you are always refusing my offers of assistance. At least let me have my part in helping you make your appointment." Anne smiled. Her godmother was really very good-natured. Though they might not see eye to eye on some points, Valeria understood Anne's need to go to Sophia.

That night Anne was to attend a small dinner with her father, sister, and Mrs. Clay at the _Crescent_. She deemed it best to attend and break the news to her father in person. She arrived on time to find that her party was already seated. As she was escorted to join the Elliot table, she perceived that some conversation had occurred between Penelope Clay and the Great Elliot. Mrs. Clay was speaking quietly and dropping her eyes, as Elizabeth and Elliot bent toward her.

She approached the seat and her father stated, "Anne, tell Penelope that she is being absurd. She thinks it is time she returned to California."

Elizabeth spoke up determinedly and did not wait for her sister's response. "It is nonsense, Penelope. You are not going to leave us just when the new season is soon to begin. Don't forget that Dad already bought your ticket for the Fonta Concert. This is no gratitude!"

"And the Spa Opening is this weekend! I know your exquisite taste and your abhorrence in withdrawing from the enjoyment of such events." Walter Elliot was nodding now, as he looked to his guest. He did not see Anne's look of astonishment when he referred to Penelope's opinion of societal entertainment. Penelope Clay seemed to give way to her host and hostess without further comment, while Anne unconsciously turned to view her sister's response to her father's compliment. Elizabeth was summoning the server without any notice of Elliot's behavior toward her friend.

"Anne, I have some news that will delight you in regard to Dame Dalrymple." As an appetizer was placed before him, the Great Elliot continued. "I have spoken with her recently, and as it is a private affair, I was concerned that you might not be invited to the opening. But you will be pleased to know that you and Penelope have both been granted special permission to accompany Elizabeth and me. So, you must be at Camden Place by-,"

"I can not go." Anne had little time to consider that she had not even been invited to attend before she heard the words leave her mouth.

"What do you mean? Of course, you can go! I have made every effort in your favor to secure your presence. It is a very prestigious gathering and most would grovel to be granted entry. And you, my dear," the Great Elliot shook his finger at her, his diamond pinky ring sparkling, "have your father to thank."

"You don't understand. I have another interview I must attend."

Walter Elliot guffawed. "What other interview could possibly take precedence over Dame Dalrymple?"

"I have promised to visit a very sick friend out of town during the weekend."

"Well, you must postpone it. It is impossible for you to be away _this_ weekend," her father said concisely. Yet, his face showed displeasure as he looked to his younger daughter.

The tension had increased, and Anne was afraid a scene would be made if she spoke further. She nibbled on the crust of a salmon mousse and caviar-accented baguette. Her stomach was in knots, and she had no appetite.

"Who is it you expect to visit out of town? Do I know of them?" Walter Elliot conversed with a nonchalance that did not fool Anne whatsoever.

"It is an acquaintance from my school days in France. Her name is Sophia Giry," replied Anne, keeping her eyes to her plate.

"I've never heard of her. Is she a singer or dancer?"

"No. Her daughter, Meg, attended the school."

Walter Elliot huffed and stated with a haughty laugh. "So, you would wish to put aside your personal invitation to attend Dame Constance Dalrymple's Opening for some sick woman with no real station worth considering." He stared directly at Anne, who did not flinch under the gaze. Although she was supremely flustered, her exterior remained calm. The Great Elliot motioned for the server to take his plate and provide the next course.

"Let her husband keep her company this weekend, Anne."

"She has no husband."

"Oh, even better. So, why does she wish to see you? To ask for money to take care of her medical bills, I imagine."

"That is not why she wishes to see me," contradicted Anne in a hushed whisper. In his criticism of his daughter's choice of friends, Walter Elliot's voice was becoming discernible above the placid atmosphere of the elegant establishment.

"Then why? What is it that you would even consider important enough to miss such an event to attend this woman, who has no name of consequence and must rely on her friends to entertain her?"

Anne, incredulous and feeling pushed to respond, opened her mouth only to close it again as Penelope Clay pushed back her seat ungracefully, knocking against the table which shook the glasses on its surface. Mrs. Clay all but ran from the room.

"What has happened to disturb her?" exclaimed Walter Elliot, turning to his oldest daughter.

"Dad, really!"

"What? What did I say?" The Great Elliot tried to recollect his words. He looked to Anne. "This is your fault, you know." The woman inhaled slowly to collect herself and looked to the roasted eggplant and saffron soup that had been placed before her.

The maitre de approached Anne's father. "Was the caviar a pleasure to the palate, sir?"

"Yes, most delightful."

"Have you tasted the soup?"

Walter Elliot tilted the spoon to his lips and dabbed his mouth. "Excellent. I look forward to the next course."

"Thank you, sir." The man was dismissed, and Elliot turned his attention back to his younger daughter.

"I will not have you embarrass me in public," he whispered before he took the next spoonful. "You have been far too self-willed this evening to be in my favor at present."

"I did not wish to cause a scene or embarrass you," she stated calmly.

"Then do not continue to speak of this subject!" he commanded, though it had been he who had instigated the argument.

Anne did utter none but an infrequent word of politeness for the remainder of the meal. She ate what she could silently; most of her food went untouched. Mrs. Clay returned before the entrée of Honey Braised Lamb was introduced. Elliot was so desirous to have her in good spirits again, he ordered the _La Epicerie _Cacao Truffle Goddess for her. Anne could no longer be surprised at her father's frivolity in ordering the outrageously-priced dessert.

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**A/N: Sequentially, things aren't in the exact order which they occur in J.A.'s work. I hope you can forgive and enjoy it all the same.**

**Ana-Misa: Sophie has much to overcome in taking this role, I know. Frederik has many issues demanding his energies. But, what is he working so intently on at present? Hmmm… Thanks!**

**followthestory: Excellent point about Valeria's understanding of her own actions and the consequences. If she doesn't realize now, she will soon enough. I hate it that I will not be allowed to read your work. You know, some of the best stories are the ones that touch the writer too deeply. But I understand your disinclination to post a piece so dear to your heart on this site. I am the same way.**

**Misty Breyer: Oh, Erik, where are you?! The waiting is suffocating! (hee hee) Yes, I did make Meg's language more old-fashioned because it is not her native tongue. I did the same with Madame Martyniere. Is it too distracting to the story? I'll go back and work on it. You are definitely onto something with your **_**Sense and Sensibility**_** comparisons! But, I am not going to tell you exactly how or why. You'll have to wait and see… (Great big smile)**


	51. Sophie's Story

**A/N: Do you want Anne to end up with Frederik? Most of you are keeping your fingers crossed. Do you want Anne to end up with Raoul? No one has voiced that this is their preference. Those of you still on the fence: what's the view like?**

Chapter 51 – Sophie's Story

After a private reunion with her mother, Meg opened the door of the bedroom for the other visitors to greet Sophia Giry. As Anne entered with Edward and Laticia, Sophie's brother immediately moved to the side of the chair to bestow a loving kiss on his sister's cheek. The suffering woman, who was propped up by pillows, looked so small in the large chair. The room held a somber atmosphere as the mid-morning sun seeped its way through the dark plum-colored curtains. A soft light shone beside the invalid, and Anne's eyes grew accustomed to its warm glow.

"Anne, I have been quite anxious to see you," admitted Sophia Giry, as she reached out and Anne stepped toward her awkwardly. Sophia had never acted familiar with her, and it was difficult to know how she should respond. She noted the pallor of the woman's cheek, as she came closer. "How are you feeling, Sophia?"

"You must call me Sophie."

Anne smiled, but it was a mystified expression. Sophie patted the bed next to her chair. "Sit, and talk with me," she said to Anne. "It is such a treat to have you all here. I look forward to it every weekend." Meg looked as though she might complain. "Now, never mind your arguments, little Meg. You know they hold no claim on my feelings. I am satisfied to be patient for a few days between the times I can be with you again." Sophie smiled, and seemed to radiate with a peace that Anne had not expected.

Edward began to talk of some of the happenings in the city, and, while Anne listened, she contemplated how it was that she had always had the impression that Sophia was a distrusting, sorrowful woman. She thought of her few remembrances of her at the Berenger Academy. This Sophie, with her hand grasping Anne's, was very changed from the one she recalled.

"I was able to rid myself of fifteen packages of the standard version," concluded Edward.

"You are so amusing, brother. You know very well that you gave them to assist those little budding musicians."

"Yes," joined in Laticia, "and I think your choice of the standard version very appropriate." She turned to Sophie, "The upgraded versions are more complex, and, really, better suited to a semi-professional, at the least."

"I can take no credit for the choice; _Note_d Youth didn't want the bells and whistles." Both Edward's sister and wife laughed, though Sophie looked drained by the effort.

"Oh, you darling man! I believe you enjoy giving away your products more than you like to sell them," exclaimed Laticia, gazing at her husband admiringly. Anne was caught with the expression, and felt grateful to witness such a display of affection in a marriage.

Sophie turned from the couple, and spoke to Anne. "I understand that you teach music in the city." Anne affirmed the fact, and Sophie asked, "Are you teaching now?" When the younger woman explained that school would soon be back in session, the older woman nodded. "I see. So, it is very fortunate that I asked you to come when I did. I want to thank you for being such a comfort to my girl, and allowing her to stay with you while Edward and Laticia were finding a place. It truly put my mind at ease. I have never met Frederik's friend, Daroga, and it distressed me greatly that he would call on him to find some place for her to stay on such short notice. But, it has all worked out." Sophia sighed, and looked around at her visitors. Her cheerfulness was so inspiring. It was understandable, when half-an-hour later, the nurse had the task of shooing away Sophie's visitors.

"I suppose I must rest then. Rook, here, sees that I keep my nap appointments with prodigious regularity. And, she is very strict about seeing that I retire when I am the least bit fatigued."

"And, if I didn't, you would be much worse off than you are," rejoined Rook. The busy nurse did not take offense at her patient's banter, but took to seeing to Sophia as a mother would her child.

"She is right," Sophie shrugged, as Rook arranged her pillows on the bed. The sick woman's manner was very playful, but her daughter, with a serious expression, went to her and hugged her tenderly.

"I am so glad you are better. I have worried about your cold, and hoped that you did not continue with the fever."

"I am fine, little love. You have no need to worry."

"But, she needs to sleep now," commented the caregiver, quietly. When the door was closed, Meg sat down on the sofa with Anne.

"Doesn't she look stronger?" asked the daughter. "Of course, you did not see her before. The move was very trying. She caught a cold on top of everything else, but I am quite relieved to find her looking better than I have seen her in many months."

"She is in a lot of pain, I gather."

"Oh, yes. She has been for years, but a couple of months ago she suffered a spinal complaint. The doctors were very hesitant to say that she would recover the movement of her legs. Since then she has been able to walk some, but the numbness and spasms continue to plague her."

"She seems in very good spirits," spoke Anne.

"Yes. She is always like that. Even when she told me that I had to go back to Paris, she did not get angry. Everything changed when… Well,… She had a very difficult life. Maman was very unhappy for many years." Meg turned and went to unpack her things, while Anne was left to wonder about Sophia Giry's past.

Edward and Laticia spent the rest of the day with Sophie and her daughter, planning to travel back before nightfall. When they entered Sophie's room to take their leave, Meg was with them. Anne stayed behind in the living room. She could hear the conversation, but felt slightly out of place in the circle of the family. Was she asked to stay the weekend so that Sophie could thank her for her kindness to Meg? It seemed rather odd.

"Will Uncle Erik be back tonight?" Anne could hardly conceal the shock her senses received with Meg's words, and was grateful that she was not in the family's company where her start was sure to have been evident. She had inferred from Meg's call, two days ago, that Frederik would be out of town.

"I am not certain when he is expected back. But, he may take the couch, if he returns."

"I take it his work in Florida is completed, and the score has been revised? I am very curious to hear it," commented Edward.

"I hope he is not so troubled regarding it as he seemed to be when he was last here," sighed Sophia.

"Well, I wish him luck. I would hate to see his play flop because of some ill-advised decisions on the part of the producers," concluded Edward.

"I feel the same way, but he now has his director, Daroga, to advise him. Has he introduced you to him yet? I believe he is of great comfort; Erik needs to feel that he has someone else's expertise to recommend to him what should be done."

"I am already well-acquainted with Daroga. I have not seen him since he's been in New York, though. We must invite him for dinner soon."

Anne found that she was holding her breath, as she listened. She tried to assume a calmer demeanor, as Rook passed her to bring Sophie her medication. Anne, sitting on the couch away from the bedroom, looked up almost guiltily. The nurse did not seem to take notice of her expression, but nodded and continued to the room.

Yet, Anne could hardly keep her composure. What if Frederik returned tonight? She gathered he did not know of her presence, though she could not be certain. The dark-haired woman determined that she would not be flustered; she had been in company with Frederik for many days in both California and Florida. She had learned how to act around him. She reminded herself that a few days before she had been desirous to speak with him, and ascertain how he was faring with so many concerns on his mind.

Before Edward and his wife bid her adieu, they settled it with Anne that she would come for dinner the following Thursday evening. The Wentworths' kindness to her was greatly appreciated. In Sophie's home, Anne felt that she was out of place. It would hardly put Frederik at ease to find her ensconced there for the weekend. As the evening wore on, Anne felt a sense of great anxiety and detachment. Her nerves were strained, and she found it extremely difficult during dinner to keep her mind on what was said to her.

Before Sophie retired, she asked Anne if they might speak briefly. "Sit down, please," she motioned, as the younger woman entered. Anne waited as Rook ministered to Sophie; giving medicaments for her pain, having moved her to her bed for the night.

Anne sat at the edge of the mattress, and looked to the suffering woman. She waited until the nurse left the room to begin. "You are looking very well, Anne. The years have been good to you." Sophie smiled approvingly as she gazed at the woman before her, and breathed in slowly, as though preparing herself for some task. "There is something I wish to tell you, and I would beg you to be patient with me as I endeavor to do so."

Anne nodded, and quietly waited for the woman to recommence her speech. Sophie looked at her tenderly, "You know, you and I were much alike in our younger years, I think. When I was eleven, I moved with my family to France. I did not want to go, and was very angry to be uprooted from my home in Plymouth. When I was thirteen and my brother, Frederik, was born, my parents sent Edward and me to live with my grandmother, returning us to Massachusetts. I became a bit of a rebel; I wanted to be on my own. Oh, Edward was always so eager to follow his dreams, and I pretended to be the same way. But, really, I was just angry. I felt as though my father's work had been more of a priority than my happiness. I now see the selfishness of the immature child I was…

At seventeen, I ran away with someone I loved – at least, I thought I loved him. Oh, I suppose I did. I had written to my father and mother, and they were against it. I expected it. In a way, I think I looked at it as my great opportunity to prove to my father that I was self-sufficient. The boy wasn't as interested in loving me as he was in his band and his music. I married him, and followed him on his tours and concerts around the country. He was involved in all manner of destructive behavior which I will not dwell upon. He convinced me that it was the only life to live, that I should have no contact with my family. Even when Meg was born, my parents were not told; it broke my heart not to be able to tell them. That is when I began to pull away from Jules. I did not want Meg to live that life, and the more I resisted, the worse he treated me. He became violently possessive, and watched and hovered over me. I could not go anywhere without him; I knew I could do nothing to protect Meg from witnessing his volatile temper. I had to escape! I had to take Meg from there, from him.

I thought he would let me go, but he did not. He followed me everywhere, and threatened me. I was afraid to go back to my family, though I did contact them at first. I did not feel safe taking Meg anywhere where he would search us out. Somehow we ended up in France, and lived there a great while. Yet, I lived in daily fear for nineteen years, until I received news that he had passed away. Suddenly my life was my own again; I was so happy. I was so…free. This pain I can deal with, but I could not deal with Jules finding Meg. You can not know a fear like that. You can not know the constant state of my thoughts." Sophie paused, looking to Anne.

"I know when you came in the room earlier today you were surprised at my disposition."

"I was," Anne answered, honestly.

"Things have changed for me now. But, when you knew me in Paris, Jules was still living. I was -,"

Someone knocked lightly on door. "Come in," Sophia stated.

"It is time for you to retire now."

Sophie looked as though she might argue, but stopped herself and looked to Anne again. "I suppose Rook is right. All that I want to say to you can wait until tomorrow. It is just that I wanted you to understand my motives at the Academy."

Anne nodded.

Sophie smiled slightly. "Tomorrow then. Goodnight, Anne."

That night Anne thought about what Sophie had told her. Sophie's disclosure of her past did not seem to have aught to do with her. Why should she be so eager to tell it? She had not been detailed about her experiences, yet Anne could perceive that the woman had had a very miserable life of it. Anne tried to glean a correlation between herself and Sophie Giry's behavior at the Academy. Did the older woman feel that she had been cruel to her in some way? As she recollected the interference Sophia Giry had had in that last meeting below the chapel with Erik, Anne considered her feelings once more. She was not angry with Frederik's sister. She felt that Sophie had only been trying to protect her. Perhaps that was the reason for Sophie's words to her; perhaps she felt that she needed to explain her actions to Anne. Did she believe Anne still felt wronged in some way? She did not feel that way toward Sophie at all.

Anne's eyes opened in the wee hours of the morning. She had been dreaming of Erik again. Only his words had not made sense. "Do not speak a word of this!" he had stated in a hushed voice. She looked around the room. Frederik stayed in this very room when he visited. This, in all probability, was what had brought on the strange dream. She clicked on the light beside her bed, and, sleepily, looked around the area for some token which might be his. The room was bare, but for a bed, a nightstand and lamp, and a small dresser. She reminded herself that he had his own residence in the city.

She heard a murmur of a female voice some distance from her door, and perceived that it was Sophie's. Who was she speaking to? Was she calling for help? Anne rose from the bed, and hurriedly put on her robe to assist the woman, when she heard another voice.

"No. There is no point." Anne stopped in her tracks. Frederik was outside Sophia's door. He was in the house! The small woman looked down at her hands, which were shaking; but not from the cold sensation running through her tired body.

"I will travel back tonight. I need to meet with Daroga first, anyway. Goodbye, Sophie." Anne heard the door to the bedroom close, and, shortly thereafter, the sound of the front door succeeded it. For a full ten minutes, Anne felt glued to the floor. Her teeth were chattering and her toes felt like icicles. She could not move. Frederik had been there. He had been in the house, meters from her! And now he was gone.

The next two days, Sophie did not so much as hint at the topic of their discussion on that first evening. Anne was in a state of confusion. Though the woman was very pleasant toward her, there seemed to be a tacit decision not to mention the conversation again. It took her some time to conclude that whatever Sophie had wanted to tell her had not been as pressing as she had felt it to be originally. Still, Anne wondered if it might be her own fault in not having spoken of it that kept the woman from feeling at ease. The night before their return to New York, Anne approached Sophie. "I have thought on what you told me the first night – about your life. I think I understand."

Sophie's brows gathered in the only frown Anne had seen her make during the entire visit. Yet, she said not a word, but looked on from the chair with a clouded expression. Anne felt as though she should not have spoken. It was obvious that the woman was suddenly unhappy in speaking of the past. It was a very uncomfortable leave-taking, and when Anne settled into the car, she felt relieved to know she would be in her own apartment that evening.

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**Ana-Misa: Your talents in catching the feelings you come away with in each chapter, then communicating them, are phenomenal. And, you rewrote it for me. Wow. I'm glad to see you are open to Sophie's role, though you are wary of how she can pull it off. It shows your understanding of J.A.'s Mrs. Smith, imo. What did you think of Sophie's story? Does it help explain her character better? "Raoul may be yummy, but so are too many cream puffs with powdered sugar. lol." Ha! Well, I know whose side you are on. Many, many thanks!**

**Misty Breyer: I love that you caught the depth of Anne's pain in not allowing herself to sing again. For her it is akin to never allowing herself to take a full breath…ever. I'm also completely in awe of the fact that however this story ends you believe you will like it. I sincerely hope it lives up to that.**

**followthestory: I find your intense feelings for this story so valuable because I believe Jane Austen felt things deeply. (So, did Maud Montgomery, my fav author.) Basically, I'm just saying: you bring a rare facet with which I feel blessed to gauge how my story comes across. Ah, "scrumptious, delicious Raoul." That was lovely. Is Anne the object of Frederik's passion? What about Louisa? Now you know that Frederik has been busy with the revisions he had to postpone after Louisa's fall.**

**full0fgrace: Captain Brigden was a friend of Admiral Croft's who sees the admiral walking with Anne. I brought attention to him because that is the general place where we are in the original story. Yes, I had to pass up the fun of **_**'a mere Mrs. Smith**_**,' but I didn't give up Walter's tantrum. Poor Raoul.**

**asdf: I'm sorry if I have offended you by putting my passion for scribbling into this fanfiction story. I like writing this because I love **_**Persuasion**_**. I'm wondering: how did you make it to Chap 49 having such distaste for the many "small" characters?**

**Martissas: What a sincere review! And very persuasive. ******

**bluetinkerbell: I think Anne's confidence is going to be shaken a bit, along with one of her resolves. I'm so glad the story is still holding its mysteries for you, even though Frederik is not in the picture as much at the moment. Thank you!**

**Nonny: I reread the passage two or three times and cannot find the surreptitious wave in the book. Was it in the movie? "An inherent distrust of prince charming types" sounds a bit prejudicial. :D You are not the only one who feels that way, though. I agree that we need more insight into Frederik's feelings and what his mind is preoccupied with in New York. Are you giving something away? You'll have to wait and see. I loved getting your review!**


	52. The Extent of My Admiration

**A/N: A big "thank you, you marvelous friend!" to my beta, tater, who is still dipping her quill into the red ink for me, and teaching me how to be more coherent with my thoughts for this story.**

Chapter 52 – The Extent of My Admiration

Journeying back to the city, Meg discussed her nervousness auditioning Tuesday. "I know I said I felt slightly familiar with the dance, but I am still anxious about performing it. It is in a neoclassical style. The last portion has very rapid, challenging combinations. I have been accustomed to the more traditional pieces; I hope I will be able to portray the emotions correctly."

"Do you regret having to leave your work in Paris?"

Meg looked speculative for a moment, and stated, "I miss the routine and emotional predictably of my work there. But, another part of me really wants to venture into other genres. Although I speak of being uncomfortable with this particular piece, at the same time, I love the idea of performing it. I have been practicing relentlessly, and there is something very liberating about the movements and the flow of the style. I am not in my element, and yet I am reaching out to some other part of me. It is both thrilling and frightening." The dancer shrugged, and asked, "Have you ever experienced this with your singing?"

"I used to."

"Do you miss the feeling, then?"

"Yes. I truly miss the feeling."

"If you knew you might have the opportunity to sing that way again, would you take it?"

"That is a difficult question."

"Yes, I know," sighed Meg, lapsing into silence. Anne remembered that the dancer had been declared a prodigy, excelling in her craft at the Academy. Now she was nearing the height of her professional career. It made more sense to the older woman, while listening to Meg, why Sophia had not wanted her to sacrifice her art. Yet, it surprised Anne that the 20-year-old could be so child-like in manner. She was bereft of a support, and handled herself as though she had no confidence.

"Would it be all right with you if I came to your audition Tuesday?"

"Oh, Anne, would you really? I would love it if you would!"

It was only after she offered that the thought occurred to her: Frederik might be there, as well.

When Anne alone remained in the cab, she gave direction for Valeria's apartments. Her godmother had specified that she must visit the evening she returned. "Are you hungry?" asked Valeria after she greeted her goddaughter.

"Actually, yes."

"Good. Come, sit down."

Valeria plumped one of the pillows, and Anne suddenly became aware that the hostess expected someone else. When she asked whether there were others attending the meal, Valeria commented, "I do hope so. I invited your father and sister, but they have been with the Dalrymples all the afternoon. I am not certain whether they will decide to grace my home tonight." Just as she finished her statement, the doorbell sounded.

"Oh. I wonder who it is. I will just go and-," Mrs. Russell crinkled her nose in a nonchalant fashion and excused herself from the room.

"You have returned, at last," exclaimed the vicomte when he entered moments later. He sat across from Anne, and stated. "Valeria asked me to see that you do not get bored while she attends to a phone call."

Anne did not openly express her disdain at her godmother's little charade. She felt much like Elizabeth would in that moment. Her pride was pinched by the tricks Valeria was attempting in throwing them together. She greatly hoped that Raoul did not think her so interested that hers was the mind behind the calculations. Yet, he did not express any disinclination to be in her presence.

"I was sorry to find you were not at the spa opening, but I was told the reason for your absence." Anne raised her eyebrows, surprised that Raoul had been invited. While it was understood that he was a man of wealth, she had never considered that he might move in the same circles as her father.

"Are you acquainted with Dame Dalrymple?" she asked.

"I am, though I did not know it before I attended. It seems the Dame was a good friend of my father's years ago. Of course, she did not recall me personally. It was only by an introduction through Elliot; I was extended an invitation in lieu of your own attendance," he explained.

"Ah. Well, I'm glad someone could be granted the pleasure of such an honorable event, since I could not be present." Anne tried to keep the sarcasm from her voice, but failed. She had meant to say the words kindly, but she could hardly conceal her own feelings regarding the triviality of the opening.

Raoul's expression was inquisitive as he gazed into her face. "Are you so very loath to attend social functions, in general?"

"No, no. It is not that. Forgive me."

"No, do tell me what your feelings are upon the matter. I should greatly wish to know your thoughts."

"I am not disinclined to be acquainted with Dame Dalrymple or her daughter. I have, as yet, not seen her, so it would not do to give a preconceived judgment of her character. I am only disturbed at the manner in which my father speaks of her. He is completely persuaded that there is no one else her equal in social rank, and, therefore, everyone should be reconciled to having no other topic of interest to discuss than the thoughts and actions of the Dame. Poor woman, I should feel very sorry to find in her nothing so affecting, but a charming smile and polite 'how you do you do.' For, my family has talked her up to such heights as she could not possibility attain."

Raoul, who had started out with a subtle twinkle in his eyes, was verily laughing aloud by the completion of Anne's discourse. "Yes, yes. I can see where your thoughts lean. And, I will tell you, I found myself more interested in the particulars of your absence than the conversation surrounding the honorable Dame and Laura Carteret. I think you must, indeed, be endowed with an excellent and giving heart. For, whether you were decidedly against the Dame or no, traveling to visit your sick friend and braving the displeasure of your father shows your spirit of goodness and disinterestedness."

Anne opened her mouth to contradict, but Raoul interrupted her. "There is no point in giving yet another example of your modesty. I have discussed it all with your friend. Valeria and I have found a common interest in sorting out your merits, which I am certain to greatly horrify you in telling you so." He spoke the latter statement with a wide grin, but his expression turned serious as he informed her, "But, I shall not fluster you, Anne. I merely wished to make known to you the extent of my admiration."

Anne could not speak, but her flushed features gave a small understanding of her disposition to her companion. "Thank you," she whispered, knowing that she should respond to such compliments with graciousness. Conversely, she was feeling quite put out with her godmother.

"Knowing your good mind, I wish to ask you about your observations of your sister's friend. I would not be so bold, but I have no doubt that your conscious eye has been aware for some time…"

"You mean, Penelope Clay, I imagine." The vicomte nodded.

"You can not look on the matter without some distaste, I believe. The woman is always in your father's company, and she seems to have developed an influence with him, not to mention his growing attachment to her." Anne, though surprised at the man's openness, was able to perceive that Raoul saw the same impropriety as she in the relationship between Mrs. Clay and her father. Yet, her response would have to wait. The doorbell sounded once again, and a boisterous Walter Elliot and the two females who accompanied him everywhere descended upon the small dinner party.

"Why, Elliot!" observed Valeria, as she entered the hall. "I am quite surprised that you were able to detach yourself from the delightful company of the Dalrymples."

Elliot entered the room, espied Anne, and took no troubles to acknowledge her presence. "Good evening, Vicomte," he gestured to Raoul, and immediately was seated, occupying his time in the awkward quietness that ensued, whence he did not greet his younger daughter, in arranging the creases in his trouser legs properly.

"Hello, sister," greeted Elizabeth. Her tone was easily read to be one of reproof.

It was soon obvious that Valeria had not truly expected Walter Elliot, Elizabeth, or Mrs. Clay to attend her dinner. Instead of directing them to their seats, she merely allowed them to arrange themselves. The meal was plentiful, but the table felt overcrowded due to the sentiments of the eaters. The Great Elliot was disposed to be taciturn, and would not to speak to Anne for the duration of the evening.

"How was your day with the Dame?" Valeria asked, trying to coax Elliot into conversation.

"It was exactly what I had expected; a small, intimate gathering among friends. Much smaller than the opening. There were far too many people in attendance on Saturday to partake in a meaningful conversation." Walter Elliot's discourse continued for some minutes regarding the afternoon. Thereafter, Anne perceived that, though he had mentioned the party as being small, her father had been among some thirty other guests and their companions.

"We learned some news that is quite scandalous," introduced Elizabeth, when her father had exhausted all conversation about how the Dame had been ever so pleased with his display on Saturday, how she had remembered the concert in Ireland, and her pleasing reactions.

"Laura Carteret was here in the city a few months ago to try for the part of the Siren in Frederik Wentworth's play." Anne looked up from her plate immediately. "Do you know, she was turned down - overlooked! – because of Fran Carlotta's interest in the role. Can you imagine? Dame Dalrymple's daughter, a very-talented stage actress from what I gather, rejected because Carlotta wanted the part."

"She must be acknowledged as being far superior to the film star," asserted Mrs. Clay, with obvious desire to mimic the thoughts that must have been spoken at some earlier time.

"Quite right. The Dame is quite rankled over it, though she was polite enough not to let on," declared Elliot.

"I have never heard of Miss Carteret's name associated with a stage performance," Valeria mused. "Has she been in the business long?"

"That is the tragedy of it; she has only been stage-acting for the past four or five years, having newly discovered her talent. Most of her experience has been abroad and rather eclectic, from what I gather." replied Elliot.

"Perhaps that is why Carlotta was chosen over Miss Carteret," expressed Valeria.

Walter Elliot turned to look at her, incredulously. "I am surprised at your willingness to ally yourself with the producers of a musical over the Dame. Connie is an exceptional actress, and I can assure you that her daughter will be the same."

Valeria acquiesced, "I'm sure you are right, Elliot. I am quite aware of the awards and honors Constance Dalrymple has received for her performances in many great productions."

"Yes, I am certain that it is a slight to the Dame herself that her daughter was so callously passed over for the part." Walter Elliot dropped his napkin onto his plate. "And, for that reason, I will not attend the premiere of this insipid _Siren of the Laconia_."

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**Misty Breyer: Loved your review! Yes, you now know that Sophie is Mrs. Smith in this story. I liked your description of Elliot. ("Fake orangey tan" – shudder). I don't know why, but I picture him with a figure like an older Cary Grant only shorter.**

**followthestory: Unsettling a foolish old man only makes him angrier. If Anne lashed out, she might have a temporary selfish pleasure in it, but what good does it do her or her father in the long run? Hmm…a talk between Raoul and Frederik. That wouldn't be pretty. (Heh, heh) Thanks!!**

**Sunsshinesista: I generally don't respond to earlier chapter reviews, but I'm making an exception. (Hope you make it to this chapter to read this.) First, thank you for notifying me of an inconsistency you perceived. I crave more reviews of this nature. They are in Malibu, California, not Florida. I was too vague about the location. So, I've made improvements to the first chapter. Thanks again!**

**Ana-Misa: Yes! Anne will not be bullied into anything. Great guesswork about Frederik's business, and great question regarding what would happen at Sophie's. It's so exciting to see that you understand things I haven't necessarily brought attention to.**

**bluetinkerbell: I guess I assumed that those who have loved Jane Austen's works would be able to understand this story. But, there are also many writers in this category who are hooked on the latest movie, and want to try for a modern dialogue. That's cool, too. Still, I have to say: Yay for the "smart" ones! And me, too.**


	53. Meeting the Director

**A/N: This double-update is devoted to Ana-Misa, who has, for some time, given generous feedback through analyses and questions which have been of immeasurable value to me. For you, Ana-Misa:**

Chapter 53 – Meeting the Director

When Anne entered the theater and was told she would not be able to proceed, she hesitated in the doorway as two figures came toward her. One of them was Gina.

"Anne! What ever are you doing here?" A look of dawning recollection crossed Gina's features. "Ah, the French girl is auditioning today. What was her name?"

"Meg Giry."

"Yes." Gina took Anne's arm and escorted her into the house where those who waited to try out were seated before the stage. It looked to be an audition by invitation; less than a dozen performers were in attendance. Anne quickly recognized Meg and sat down beside her.

"Good morning," said the woman who had accompanied Gina. "You are here to try out for one ballet solo in _The Siren of the Laconia_. As you should already be aware, it is a neoclassical style and will require a performance of pristine ability. So, to exemplify your skill, you should have a comparable selection chosen." She eyed the dancers and moved away, announcing the first performer.

"Oh, I'm so glad you are here!" whispered Meg as the first dancer introduced herself and her piece. "I was hoping I'd be one of the first, but I am next to last. I will understand if you cannot stay for the duration."

"I have no pressing business. In fact, I had planned to take you out to eat," responded Anne. "If that would be pleasing to you…"

"I can't even think about food, right now. My stomach is very sensitive."

Anne put her arm around the girl. "You will do wonderfully; there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you are going to exceed all expectation."

Meg looked at her gratefully. "Thank you. Would you please be sure to inform me if they call my name? I need to meditate. Sometimes I get so caught up, forgetting everything, and not hearing when someone addresses me." Anne nodded, and as Meg closed her eyes the older woman smiled. She knew exactly how the dancer felt; she had experienced many an audition when she first moved to New York. She had been so filled with hope then.

_In those last painful weeks before her final evaluation, Madame Martyniere sensed her anguish at having been parted from Erik. "My dear, you have much talent. It would be very tragic, indeed, if you allowed it to be wasted. You must learn to channel your sorrow and use it as an impetus to help you sing. Right now you are using it to keep you from relating to your audience, and that will work against you."_

_Anne understood her instructor's advice. She had learned to channel her pain early on in life after she had lost her mother, and this was where it had put her. Part of her was pleased with her work; she greatly loved to perform and give herself to music. But another part of her was empty_;_ and it reminded her that no matter how she devoted herself to the passion of singing, she would always be alone. She was without her mother, who had been her best friend, and now Erik. Was there any point in continuing? She had no hope of happiness without him, she told herself._

_Through this thought, she convinced herself that she should write to him to tell him that she would wait. He needed to know; he couldn't understand unless she told him. She wrote the letter on the last week of her final semester and entrusted it into Sophia Giry's very hand. "Give this to him," she had entreated, knowing that his sister would know to whom the epistle was meant to go._

"_Anne, the voice is incredibly fragile. It can change over a lifetime. Yet yours has a quality and strength I have rarely found. That is why I think it best to recommend a new instructor that I think will aid you the most in continuing to refine your skill," Madame Martyniere advised when Anne met with her immediately following the evaluation._

"_You will not continue_ _with me?"_

"_I would love it; but while further training and education are important, you need a more diverse experience to teach you the direction in which you must go. You must find the desire from within, Anne. You cannot let the distractions of life stand in the way of your dreams." The seasoned instructor smiled upon Anne, but her eyes contained pondering solemnity. "I have written to a professor, once a student of mine; she lives in New York. She will know exactly how to help you; not only to challenge your voice, but to open the right doors to you. And don't forget to come and visit me. I will watch for you, my dear. I have a sense that you will be one of the great ones." She had gone to New York with her instructor's encouragement and a persistent faith that Erik would follow._

_Yet all of her expectations had turned to hopeless disappointments when he did not appear. She had felt the emptiness of celebrating with no one on her success in making the cast-lists and bowing with the rest of the performers to great applause, only to return to a solitary room later in the evening. There was no joy in her music, no joy in performing. The passion in her singing, which she had discovered through Erik, had faded away._

A short time later - though it might have felt interminable to the dancer – Meg's name was called. She stood up beside Anne; and an assistant, sitting near Gina, handed the instructor the dancer's resume. The music began, and Anne could hardly believe the helpless girl who had been sitting beside her was the confidently elegant performer interpreting the emotional piece with such exquisite precision. It was almost painful to watch her; Meg was so in tune with the score. It gave Anne the sweet remembrance of another. Yet she noticed the assistant rise and exit through a side door.

As the piece ended, Anne found she had been holding her breath. The combinations had been very difficult, yet Meg had handled them as though her body was an extension of the music. She had kept a momentum that seemed impossible to attain for such a small figure as hers. Her motions had been entrancing, as though Meg Giry were only alive when the music began. This was the little Giry she had known at school, so full of vitality.

The dwindling number of inhabitants in the room showed their appreciation for little Giry's skill. It was only as Gina turned around to look to the doorway from which the assistant had exited that Anne noticed the man standing there. He was short of stature and wore a cap of Persian wool, giving him a mixture of distinction and eccentricity, which some might have viewed as humorous. Noting his features, Anne wondered if he could be Daroga, the director.

"You did wonderfully. How do you feel?" Anne asked as they walked down the corridor and out into the light.

"Relieved. I was so anxious beforehand, but it all went away. Now I am rather giddy. How did I do? Did you think my flourish at the end was too much? I tried to include it because it is part of a combination in the _Siren_."

"Oh, Meg. You were brilliant."

"So, you think I'll get the callback?"

"I think you'll get the part!" The young woman beamed.

"Anne!" Gina called out to her as the door was reopened behind them. "We are breaking for lunch. Won't you and Meg join us?" Anne looked to Meg, whose expression was one of rapturous excitement at the prospect.

Anne found it very strange to be introduced to Frederik's friend, Daroga, across the table from an ever-bubbly Gina, and sitting beside a quietly ecstatic Meg. Perhaps it had not been such a good idea to agree to the lunch, but she did hope it would bode well for the small dancer. Meg did not touch the salad she had ordered, leaving the other three to conduct themselves the way a normal meal is played out: by consuming the food before them.

Daroga looked to the small dancer. "Eat," he commanded, "You can't dance like that and not feed your tired limbs." Meg gave the man a small smile and did her best to comply.

Gina grinned. "Oh, tell her, Daroga. You are too cruel."

Anne and Meg both looked to him. "You have the part. There is no callback needed. How long have you been dancing in that style?" Meg's mouth was still chewing. "You are well-conditioned for the piece."

"Well that was easy enough," began Gina, taking an enormous bite out of a hearty sandwich.

"Nonsense. We still have the understudy for the dancing siren to decide upon." Anne looked to Daroga with a confused expression.

"Excuse me. Might I ask: how many sirens are in the play? I gathered that there was only one."

Daroga smiled. It was disconcerting, for his was a face that did not seem comfortable with such an expression. "You have not seen it." It was not a question. "Knowing the details of a performance belongs to the artist. You will have to wait until opening night."

"Daroga," stated Gina, her mouth still full of food. "Anne is an artist, as well. She is a singer, and she also teaches voice at Archibald nearby."

The man's eyes darted to peruse her features. It was hard to tell whether his expression was one of suspicion since it was the normal mode of his countenance to look watchful. The attention discomfited her. "Your name is Anne?"

"Yes."

"What have you performed in recently?"

"I don't – I have given it up for some time."

"Was 'Anne' your stage name?"

"No. I was Christine Elliot, then."

Daroga's lips paled as they tightened on his countenance. "Christine Elliot. Yes, I think I recall that name."

Gina raised her eyebrows at her friend encouragingly. "I don't doubt it. If you ever heard her sing, you'd never forget it." Daroga did not respond, but dropped his eyes. Yet, she had the impression that his thoughts regarded her. Was it possible that Frederik had mentioned her to this man?

He turned to Meg abruptly and stated, "Be at the theater on ---- Ave and ----; No. ----, tomorrow at 6 pm. I want to acquaint you with some of the details of the performance. I will have your contract, and we will discuss that, as well. Anne, will be there, too, I imagine." Anne did not respond. The statement surprised her. Why did Daroga assume she would accompany Meg?

That afternoon, after Gina and Daroga had returned to work, Anne congratulated her friend. "I will see you tomorrow evening, then. I gather he thought I should be there to support you," she said, speaking of Daroga.

The dancer looked down at her shoes. "It is my fault," she stated. "I should have been more assertive." The girl sighed.

Anne took the opportunity to bolster the girl's spirits. "Meg, you are an exquisite dancer. I have no doubt you will bring a performance that will be like none before it." She watched the girl's expression. "You do not need to be uncertain of that."

Meg smiled but did not look persuaded. "I will see you tomorrow, then. And thank you," she kissed her friend, "Thank you for helping me through today."

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**A/N: The Persian, or "Daroga" as Erik called him, was more of the phantom's nemesis in POTO.**

**lina, Momo, and vixen519: Frederik, Frederik, Frederik! What is it this guy has that Raoul doesn't? You make a good point, vixen519, it **_**does **_**change the story a bit to have her fall for Raoul. And, Momo, your "fluff" request will be granted…later. (Cackling)**

**bluetinkerbell: I'm so thrilled you are wondering about what happened with Sophie!! What could it mean?! Any ideas? Thanks!**

**LaLumacca: You like Raoul? Yey! But, you're still hoping she'll get with Frederik in the end. Wow, isn't that cruel to play with the poor vicomte's heart, though? (Wink)**

**followthestory: I can't say much, else I might give something away, but "Brava on your analysis of Frederik; very, very observant." Yes, it is horribly unfair to Raoul. "Realistically & logically, she should end up with Raoul." Yikes, so are you saying that if I perceive myself as a realistic and logical writer, then Anne must end up with him? I will consider that.**

**Ana-Misa: I feel as though I have been given the sweetest hug! I am so grateful for such compliments, but I am especially appreciative that you are finding the journey so delightful! You're on to Frederik's pov, too, I see. Yes, your thoughts on Sophie's past and perceptions are exceptional. (Gleeful grinning)**

**Nonny: I just found the **_**Lost**_** song for **_**Persuasion**_** (2007) on youtube. Squealing!!! (I was actually hunting down the 1971 mini. I have never seen it.) Yeah, I understand your feelings for the 1995 Anne. Rarely can a movie inspire like a book does. There's a simple "coming back around" feeling that Sophie brings to my story which makes it gather in momentum again, I think. At least I hope it is perceived that way.**

**Misty Breyer: Glad you enjoyed finding Daroga here, and hope you liked finding out more about him in this chapter. Thanks!**


	54. The Dalrymple Spa at Milsom Plaza

Chapter 54 – The Dalrymple Spa at Milsom Plaza

The next afternoon, Anne decided on a visit to the Elliot suite, hoping to show her willingness to be reconciled to her father instead of nursing the schism her absence the weekend before had created.

"Anne, it is good of you to call on us; dad was just speaking of you." Elizabeth's eyes expressed a mocking pleasure. "You must learn to be more considerate of him, you know. He is not so young and cannot handle such upsets as you gave him last week."

"He is not so very old, Elizabeth," ventured Penelope. Anne's sister ignored her.

"Promise him never to be so obstinate again. I am almost convinced that Dad will give up inviting you out with us if you do not."

"Oh," gasped Penelope, as though the thought was even a great punishment to her.

Anne walked in and greeted her father. "I suppose you have come to tell me something." The Great Elliot gazed upon her expectantly.

Anne swallowed the pill of her father's infantility and stated, "I regret having missed the Dame's Spa Opening. I know it meant much to you that I should meet her."

Walter Elliot admitted, "It was very trying for me to have to find another guest on such short notice. I hate to attend events with an odd number; you know that. Besides, what good is it to me to discuss her with you when you have not, as yet, met her, much less had any conversation." As an afterthought, Walter Elliot stated, "You know, you ought to go with your sister today. Then you will have the benefit of informing the Dame of your delight in the new facility when you come to the gala on Friday."

Her father's suggestion befuddled her, and she did not respond immediately. Certainly she had no desire to be disagreeable to his request. In fact, she had prepared herself to do just the opposite, leaving her with no ready excuse; she felt she must comply. Yet she wondered at this whim of his. Would a day at the Dame's spa make such an impact? And to what gala was her father referring? Anne voiced the latter question and was informed, "Connie is hosting a small gathering in honor of Carolus Fonta. I will want to introduce you to her before the concert, for there is never time for introductions when the cameras are flashing. Oh, that reminds me, has your sister left yet?" Walter Elliot had a servant search out the whereabouts of his eldest daughter.

Anne heard the doorbell. "Who else might be here this early?" he questioned, looking at his watch apprehensively.

Shortly thereafter, Raoul entered the room, followed by Penelope and Elizabeth. "I did not know you were with your father," the guest addressed Anne. He made his apologies for having intruded on their conversation.

"Never mind that," the older man answered Raoul; a conversation with Anne was not of any consequence to Elliot. "Elizabeth, did you already make the change in the accent color I will wear to the concert?"

"Yes, to the pearl-gray, like you wanted."

"I have decided to go with the cerulean again," he stated, adding, "I am certain to clash with what the Dame has chosen if I wear the gray. There are so many shades of gray. Oh, and Anne, be sure to wear a lighter color. No black or navy. You have a tendency to wear darker shades, and they will weigh down my ensemble when you are beside me." He nodded to his younger daughter and addressed Elizabeth again, "I have decided Anne will accompany you to the spa today. I'm sure I have no need for her." He did not notice Elizabeth's expression of dismay as he told Anne, "Be sure to tell them that you are the daughter of the Great Elliot."

"She can try, but I doubt there will be an opening for her. It is by reservation only," Elizabeth replied smugly.

"Really-," began Anne.

"She can have my appointment," interrupted Penelope. "I will stay here with your father."

Anne was ready to sincerely object to Mrs. Clay's offer, but was cut short by Elizabeth's exclamation. "No! That is out of the question!" she stated, openly irritated by her friend's suggestion. "Why would I want to go with Anne?"

"I should be delighted to keep you company, if that is the concern," Raoul volunteered, speaking directly to Elliot.

"What has put it into your heads that I need someone with me?" Walter Elliot reacted brusquely. He recalled himself, stating, "I think you should all go to the spa."

"Of course," The vicomte spoke as if Elliot's words were not the least bit offensive. The younger man's charming abilities confounded Anne. Was he consistently so agreeable, with never a thought for what might be his own taste for enjoyment?

"And Anne, if you can do no more, at least you should take a tour of the facilities. I don't want you to be completely ignorant of the establishment in the Dame's presence," directed Elliot.

"Let us go. We shall be late, if we do not," Elizabeth commanded. Her face displayed chagrin, but she did not attempt to go against her father's wishes. This silence was uncharacteristic of the older sister, but Anne did not dwell further on it. She was still undecided as to whether she would go or no and conducted herself as though she might decline to accompany the two who hurried out of the room. Raoul awaited her. "Well, go on. You may tell me your impressions when you return," urged her father.

It had not been in Anne's mind to go to the Dalrymple Pampering Spa in the least. She had felt both compelled by her father and repulsed by Elizabeth. Seated in the vehicle beside Penelope Clay, she fully regretted that she had not made excuse before entering therein. Elizabeth only made terse remarks and kept her eyes on the buildings outside. Raoul, sitting beside Elizabeth, did his best to make polite inquiries to each of the sisters.

Penelope Clay was searching her purse, casually at first, and then diligently. "I cannot find my cream!" she finally admitted.

"Oh, Penelope. You make too much of father's injunctions to you. If you don't have the Gowland's with you, it will not be of any consequence." A newspaper clipping had dropped from Mrs. Clay's purse, and Anne reached down to retrieve it. Immediately she noted the figures displayed thereon. It was a picture of her father, Elizabeth, and Penelope on the avenue. In the photograph, her sister's head was turned, and she looked to be shielding her face. Yet, a beguiling smile was upon it; as though her attempts to detract from herself were all a ruse. The features of Mrs. Clay beside her were blurred and candid. Walter Elliot was flashing his trademark expression; his eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on his lips. The headline read, "Great Elliot takes residence in Big Apple."

"Isn't it a very becoming likeness of your father?" asked Penelope as Anne handed the paper back to her. Elizabeth glanced at the clipping.

"Oh, that was taken months ago," scoffed Elizabeth. "I can't believe you kept it, Penelope. Besides, if you or any fan wanted a good photo of him, he'd gladly give it. He has thousands of them, and all autographed."

Raoul, perceiving the subject, allowed his eyes to linger on Anne's for a moment. The woman knew what he was thinking and recalled his implications two days before regarding the influence of Penelope Clay. To be photographed with the blonde-haired woman on his arm, whether his daughter accompanied them or not, was a palpable means of alerting the attention of the public to Walter Elliot's partiality. He had ventured out with her to many an event, having been seen at every function with Elizabeth and her friend. Anne felt a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. The night at the Crescent came back to her fully. While she had witnessed another example of her father's extravagance in buying Mrs. Clay a costly dessert, she had not seen it in the light that some would; he had done so to curry the woman's favor, an uncharacteristic gesture for her father! She scolded herself for not taking the situation as seriously as she should have. Yet, what could be done? She could not demand that Penelope Clay leave the suite at Camden Place! Elizabeth would never have it; her sister, if nothing else, would be insulted that Anne interfered.

"What part of Milsom Plaza, Miss Elliot?" asked the driver as they neared their destination.

"Park in the north garage. It is the closest to the spa entrance. After we finish shopping, you will meet us at the front of the building which abuts this street. Over there, you see?" The driver nodded.

Inside the building, Elizabeth and Penelope meandered behind Raoul and Anne, the older sister basking in her sour mood brought on by the additional company of her sister. Anne and her cousin stepped into one of the four elevators on the floor, and they waited, holding the door for the other two to join them. The door to the elevator in the corner was opening, and from it stepped a tall man. Elizabeth could clearly see that the man was exiting the elevator, and her elevator was being held for her. Yet she cut in front of him to enter the box held by her cousin and sister. He considerately waited for Elizabeth and Penelope to go before him into the elevator before continuing down the hall. Anne heard him speak some polite word, but Elizabeth did not trouble herself to respond. She merely looked up at him with an expression that clearly stated, 'How dare you speak to me.' Her sister had just snubbed Frederik Wentworth!

His back was to Anne as he proceeded on his way, and she knew he had not espied her in the lift. Yet Anne wanted to call out to him. She wanted to show him that she would acknowledge his kindness. The elevator door was closing before she could find her tongue.

"Did you see who that was?" Elizabeth asked Penelope when the elevator started its ascent. She smiled superiorly as she announced, "It was Frederik Wentworth, the one who wrote the music for the _Siren of the Laconia_." She crossed her arms and absently watched the numbers on the display progress upward. "That should put him in his place."

Anne did not even look at Raoul, for she felt so embarrassed by her sister's behavior. She had wanted to ask whether her cousin knew the musician, but she would not bring his name forward to be abused by her sister.

At the door to the spa entrance, she thought to find some way to excuse herself and follow after Frederik. She had no doubt he knew who her sister was; over the years the many photos taken of the Great Elliot's eldest daughter had changed very little. Elizabeth was still just as stunning as she had been at eighteen.

In the lobby, Elizabeth was speaking with the person at the front desk about openings for her sister. The receptionist expressed dismay and stated, "We only accept appointments."

"Can you not make an exception?" asserted Raoul. Anne stood back and pretended to admire the room. She felt ambiguous; it would suit her just as well to be denied a spot. She could not disentangle her mind from Elizabeth's rudeness. Oh, how Anne wished that her sister had not dismissed Frederik Wentworth!

"We can try, but we have an increasing number of clients, sir. I will make inquiries, if you will be seated."

The assistant returned and apologized. They could take only the two original appointments. As Elizabeth and Penelope were admitted, Raoul asked if they might not take a tour of the establishment.

"It cannot be accomplished today; I am sorry," was the reply. "Our website will be accessible in a day or so, and you may take the virtual tour."

Raoul led Anne from the Dalrymple Spa into the main building. She slowed her pace as she entered the hall where she had first espied Frederik. It flitted through her mind to question why he had been in the same building, of all the businesses in the vast city!

"Shall I take you back to your father's residence?" They were taking another route which would lead them out of the front doors to the street. As they neared the large glass panes of the main entrance, they immediately perceived the state of matters beyond the building. It was pouring rain. If they ventured beyond the overhang of the roofline, which jutted out some ten feet, they would forthwith come in contact with the quickly-falling shower. He opened the door to her and stated, "If you do not mind waiting here, I will find a cab." Anne nodded as the noise of the city flooded her ears. Raoul lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the torrent, and she waited under the canopy, keeping him in sight.

So intent was she upon Raoul's progress, that she was not aware of the goings on about her. A man stopped beside her and asked, "Would you like an umbrella?"

Her first reaction was to believe a vendor was taking advantage of the downpour to sell his wares. Instinctively she gave an assertive, "No."

But her heart knew otherwise and leapt at the sound of the voice. She knew who addressed her before her quick eyes focused on him. "I was taking a call and saw you pass by. I have come prepared for the day," he stated jovially, motioning to the umbrella in his hand. He was trying to soften the surprise of their meeting, she supposed. Feeling abashed by her short reply, she continued to stare at him dumfounded.

"Hello," she was finally able to respond, simply.

Frederik Wentworth came toward her. "Here. You are getting rained on," he observed, opening the umbrella and directing it so that it would shield her. For the wind made the structure she stood under of hardly any avail in keeping the rain from spraying its crystal droplets onto her hair and cinnamon-colored blouse. He was so close beside her that she fancied she could smell his scent, even in the freshness of the precipitation about them. Unfortunately for Raoul, she forgot to continue looking out for his indication that he had procured a cab.

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**A/N: Yes, another evil cliffy. (Muwahahaha!)**

**Ana-Misa: Loved this line: "Anne doesn't like being seen as a pawn, to be maneuvered on this gameboard of romantic intrigue." Exactly. She's not a tease, and she's not over Frederik. Yes, Elliot's disdain for the musical shows how much he believes his opinion matters.**

**Misty Breyer: Ha; **_**To Catch a Thief**_**! Yes, I see what you mean; though Cary Grant continues to be my second favorite actor. Laura Carteret will make a few appearances.**


	55. A Business Proposition

Chapter 55 – A Business Proposition

"Here, take it." Frederik smiled down pleasantly at her and made as though he would pass her the handle of the umbrella protecting her from the rain.

"Oh," she said, remembering why she was in the hollow. "I am only waiting for my cousin."

"Would it be agreeable if I wait with you?" His manner bespoke his apprehension. She perceived that something had changed since their frequent time spent in each other's company only weeks ago. She attributed it to her less-than-welcoming behavior. She tried to recollect herself, and be friendly without any appearance of the turmoil within.

"Please do. I should like it very much."

He did not seem to relax in his endeavor to be affable, which confounded Anne. There was a lag in the conversation wherein both parties tried to fill it by inquiring after the health of various family members. "I had heard that you visited my sister over the weekend. It was very kind of you," added Frederik. Anne held her tongue, knowing very well that he had returned while she had been present, and not desirous to bring attention to the matter.

"Anne." His tone became more direct. "I have something to admit." The umbrella dropped slightly, allowing the spray to coat them once more. Neither of them noticed. "I hope you will-,"

"Anne! Anne!" The small woman looked around the umbrella to see Raoul waving his arm frantically at her in the midst of the downpour.

"That is your cousin?" asked Frederik, incredulously.

"Yes," she answered. "I believe you know him. His name is Raoul de-,"

"I know him." The man's words were succinct, and he did not seem to notice that the woman beside him was now bared to the rainfall as she started toward the open sidewalk to answer Raoul's call. She turned back to him. "I am sorry. I must go." She gestured to the cab that her cousin was boarding. The rain was flattening strands of her black hair across her forehand, and her shirt was soon becoming darker under the heavy influence of the water as it fell.

For a moment, Anne hurried toward the car unescorted; then, Frederik caught up with her. "Anne. Would you be averse to taking a call from me?" Anne did not look up, but slowed her pace. She knew if she met his eyes, he would know. He would _know_! But she could not be certain to what he alluded. His previous words had set her mind on the thoughts of his late-night discussion with Sophie. Did he want to admit to her that he had been there? But, why? It made no sense. "I have a business proposition for you," he continued.

Immediately, Anne was grateful that she had not raised her eyes to him. She was approaching the cab and gave a quick reply over the beat of the rain upon the pavement and honking of the car horns about them. "Yes. Do you have my number?"

"I do. My regards to de Chagny," he stated concisely as he closed the door to the vehicle. Anne turned to look at the man sitting beside her in the car. Raoul did not look pleased, but rather stunned. Perhaps she only imagined it. His hair was a tousled mat of amber, and his shirt was plastered to his well-shaped shoulders. Unbelievably, such a state did not make him any less handsome. He looked to her bedraggled hair and disorder, as well. Suddenly his face broke out into the grin she recalled from the bridge in St. Augustine.

"We're a fine pair today, aren't we?" Raoul observed as the cab pulled away from the curb. She returned the smile, though hers was more circumspective. "I hope Elliot will forgive the receptionist for not allowing you to tour the premises," he jested.

"I did not wish to offend my father, but I feel not the least inkling of disappointment in having been turned away," she responded.

"I was of the impression he was desirous for you and I to be anywhere but in the confines of the suite with him."

"Oh? Did you think so? Perhaps you are right," concluded Anne. "Perhaps a different tour is in order. Shall we visit your theater?" Anne offered. Her suggestion was a ploy to give her a moment to think. She hoped the man beside her would be affected by the change of topic to speak for some moments on the latest improvements of his project; it would afford her a moment to calm the flutter within regarding what had just occurred outside Milsom Plaza. Her thoughts were demanding to be gone through and sorted out, and would not be ignored. Yet, she did not wish to offend the man who had been so attentive to her, as well as to her father and sister.

"Well, no. It is not a good day for that. There are some wrinkles that need to be ironed regarding the Fontaine." She looked at him questioningly, but he did not elaborate.

"I hope the improvements have not been bungled again," she expressed.

"Oh, it is not significant. You know, I have always been a lover of theater," he said, changing the subject. "I have spent much of my life as a viewer enjoying the skill of great stage performers. I should have wished to be one myself, but I had family obligations, as you know. Still, I was a great patron of the arts, and I'm sure to be one again soon."

Anne, now sufficiently calmer, was looking for a way to ask Raoul of his acquaintance with Frederik Wentworth. She found it very unsettling that he had not mentioned the musician directly she entered the cab but was grateful for the interval. She had not wanted him to witness her ruffled emotions regarding the man. Yet she had expected that he would have recognized him and could hardly believe Raoul had not heard Frederik give his regards. The man had been beside the car, practically assisting her into it.

Her mind went over every word and gesture of that chance meeting as Raoul continued to speak of his enjoyment of having so many new acquaintances in the city and of the opportunity of attending events that had taken place. What could this proposition be? She admitted to herself that it was not what she had wished to hear, that Frederik had wanted to discuss business with her. Of course, she had been silly to think he would want to call her for any other reason. She looked up at Raoul guiltily as he chatted, smiled affably, and tried to pick up on what the man was discussing.

"…I am only slightly familiar with Fonta's work, though I know most of his selections are in other languages. I was never very taken with learning another language, except English. You speak French, I am sure."

"Yes. I also know a bit of Italian, since it is related to so many aspects of musical education."

"Ah. Then I will rely upon you to interpret any Italian pieces for me at the concert. That is, if you do not have any objection?" His teasing expression spoke his confidence that she would not. She readily assented, and he added, "It will be a thrilling performance, I have no doubt."

"Nor I," rejoined Anne as a thought occurred to her. A concert such as Carolus Fonta's must draw in musicians; it was possible Frederik might attend.

As the cab pulled up in front of the entrance of her father's residence, Raoul excused himself. "I shall go back to my rooms, if you'll forgive me. The rain…" His words trailed away as he gestured to his wet shirt.

"Oh, I understand. You are soaked through. I will not detain you, but to thank you for your company on the ride back."

"It is the greatest of pleasures," he returned. She closed the car door and went up to her father's suite. Although she felt that he would be displeased with her inability to tour the spa, she would do her best to prove herself a good companion for the few hours Elizabeth would be away. As the door was opened to her, she could hear animated speech coming from the drawing room.

"Is my father busy?" Anne asked the butler.

"He is in a meeting with his agent and a representative from John Gowland Industries."

"John Gowland Industries? You don't mean-,"

"I believe, miss, that they are considering your father as a spokesperson for their products."

Anne's dark eyes widened as reality dawned. "My father is going to sell Gowland's cream for them?"

Anne considered turning on the spot and leaving the suite. She now understood her father's insistence that she go to the spa. It was not the merits of the Dame's establishment that he prized; rather, he was trying to be rid of her. How right Raoul had been! Yet, her motions were halted by the presence of Walter Elliot in the entryway unaccompanied.

"Why have you returned so early?" He looked crossly at her, his back toward the drawing room.

"There were no openings," she expressed lamely. "And they were too busy to give a tour."

"I see. Well, I am very busy at present." Walter Elliot's hands fluttered around his face in supreme agitation. "You must go. This is important, and I don't want you here."

As Anne entered the elevator, she felt a great sense of relief that Raoul had not accompanied her. With her father trying to hide the situation, she knew he would have been extremely disturbed if Raoul had been privy to the meeting. She doubted very much that M. de Chagny was aware of her family's financial troubles. Especially when Elizabeth in all probability had her heart set on winning the vicomte. Anne would not enlighten Raoul, no matter how tempted she was to be honest with the state of affairs regarding her father and sister. They would never forgive her for such an admission.

She ascertained that matters were bleak for them. For only a dire need would induce the Great Elliot to resort to what he considered "such a lowly act." He had always balked at the thought of celebrity endorsement, averring that he would never stoop to it, and made fun of those who would.

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**A/N: John Gowland advertised his lotion and cream for men and women in J.A.'s era. It was made from bichloride of mercury, and worked much like a chemical peel.**

**Ana-Misa: Oh, you are on to something with Daroga's knowledge of Anne. Chapter 15 explains the role of singing the **_**Siren's Song**_** as being separate from the lead actress who plays the part of the Siren. Frederik explains (in the same chapter) that he has to completely rework the song because the producers require it. Your thoughts are still very close. I want to tell you how, but I won't ruin it. Thank you ever so much for this review!**

**Misty Breyer: "…although he's not physically present very often, the way he haunts Anne's thoughts stretches him into a shadow over everything else." Yippee! I had hoped he was doing just this. Chapters 34 and 44 give the answers to your questions on Georgina Sorelli. I think it is because her background was given so much earlier that it is hard to remember.**

**lina: A very penetrating analysis. "Damaged." Hmmm. I prefer "matured by similar experiences," but it is the same thing. Yet, Raoul has had similar experiences to Anne, as well. He married due to family obligation; Anne has had her own frustrations because of her obligations to family.**

**bluetinkerbell: Are you still there? No heart attack after that last chapter, I hope. (chuckling) Yes, the confrontation with Valeria is coming, though Anne isn't going to surprise us and go ooc. Thanks!!**

**full0fgrace: Thanks for warning me about the '71 mini; I definitely want to see it. Do you really think Daroga will be the one doing the persuading? (Oh – you just wheedled that out of me!)**

**Nonny: Wow, you are thinking that Anne will perform, too! I know what will happen to most of the characters, but the difficulty is discerning what is important to the plot. I have a hard time will this. (Sigh.) "Seeing things dumbed down like in that newest travesty of P&P is very disturbing." I have to agree. I know some will not, but I was shattered. Still, if it stirs interest in reading the book, I'm happy.**

**LaLumacca: Exactly. Poor alluring Anne. (Big grin)**


	56. I Perceive I Have Offended You

**A/N: Whoo hoo! 175 reviews! Have a chapter:**

Chapter 56 – I Perceive I Have Offended You

That evening Anne took a taxi to meet Meg at the address Daroga had given. She gave the cab driver the directions and considered that Raoul's hall was in the area, though she could not recall the number. To her great astonishment, the cab pulled up in front of the building which housed the Fontaine. "Are you sure this is the address?" The driver grunted in a perturbed fashion.

She made her way into the building and noticed that performers were exiting; a rehearsal of some sort must have occurred. She could hardly reconcile the idea of using the very establishment Raoul was soon to purchase, a small concert hall, as in any way fitting a Broadway theatrical production's needs. Gina and Daroga were at the front of the house, near the stage, when Anne entered. The curly-haired dancer was commenting on some aspect of the set-up as workers disassembled a wooden structure on the platform. She perceived Anne and announced, "Here she is!"

Gina made her way up the center aisle toward her friend. Her steps were jubilant, and she beamed as though she had news. So it did not surprise Anne when she stated, "You are in for such a happy surprise! And you have me to thank."

"Oh, really?"

"Can I tell her, Daroga?" she asked looking toward the stage behind her.

"No," he stated simply.

"Is this about Meg?"

"Is this about Meg?" repeated Gina and laughed. "No, it's about you, silly."

Her friend had managed to completely bewilder her. She was standing in the house she had just traversed with Raoul a week ago; a hall that was supposed to be his. The idea dawned on her that this was why he had not wished to visit it. He was allowing it to be used for the rehearsals of the _Siren_. But why was the _Siren_ being rehearsed here? And why had Raoul not spoken of it earlier? He would have seen that she was acquainted with Frederik, and she was fairly certain the vicomte knew the musician had composed all of the scores for the production. Full of questions, Anne inquired of her friend.

"Yes. We are just renting it until the work at the Theatre Populaire is completed," Gina explained. "They extended the run for the previous production which caused things to fall two weeks behind schedule. Daroga found that this stage is slightly larger than the one on which the sailors will perform."

"The stage at the Populaire is smaller? No…"

"I'm talking about the stage built on the ship prop which will be erected over the original stage."

Anne took in the information and nodded. "I was under the impression that this hall was under contract and soon to change ownership."

"I know nothing about that. The owners readily allowed us to rent it for a short period to aid in the cost of the recent improvements they have made." Gina checked her watch and remarked, "I'm looking forward to working with little Giry. She is incredible!" Anne smiled at her friend's good fortune. "Oh, but I am still reeling about you…" Gina added cryptically. Again Anne was forced to wonder what was afoot, for Gina would not say another word.

Minutes later, she heard the sounds of voices in the front of the house; one of them was Frederik's. When Meg entered with her uncle, Anne could hardly keep from shaking her head in disbelief. Two meetings in one day in such a great city, it was uncanny. He approached her directly. "Hello, again." She could tell from his manner that he had anticipated the meeting. She shook his hand, grateful that her fingers had not had time to reach the fullness of their freezing nature which occurred when she was truly nervous. Yet she immediately curled her fingers and placed them into one another, shifting them back and forth at intervals. Unconsciously, she was wringing her hands as she stared up at Frederik, around at Meg and Gina, and at the approaching Daroga.

"Frederik, you know everyone here. Sorelli, our choreographer," Daroga began.

"Yes, I remember Gina," the musician spoke, lifting his hand to shake hers. "And thanks again," he added, though Anne did not know why he thanked her friend.

"A pleasure," stated Gina, her thick dark ringlets bobbing as she reached to greet him within the circle of artists that had formed.

"It seems you are the mutual acquaintance of all but yours truly," expressed Daroga to Anne. "Yet, I feel as though I should know you. I have heard of nothing but you – or, I should say, your vocal ability – for almost two weeks now." Anne's face was incredibly hot. Why was Daroga telling her this? And why were the four of them gazing so expectantly at her? Then the truth washed over her: the news had something to do with her recording of the _Siren's Song_.

"_I have a business proposition for you," _Frederik had stated.

But how could she sing the piece when it had been omitted from the program by the producers? As though Frederik read her thoughts, he explained. "From the moment you recorded the _Siren's Song_, I found myself in a quandary. It was so exactly what the production needed, and I couldn't get it out of my mind. Yet I knew that the producers had put the condition into the contract that I needed to change the score. I agonized over it for days; it did no good to tell myself it was impossible. There had to be a way to make it so. When I returned to the city, I sought out Daroga who had accepted the position of director as a favor to me. I applied to him for his advice. He listened to the song and felt the same as I; for, he had been most astonished that the score was expected to be reworked in the first place."

"And what a trial for me to find I was to direct the aspects of a piece that had not yet been created," rejoined Daroga.

"If you had not seconded me, I wouldn't have fought for the score I will admit is my favorite completed composition to date," Frederik told the director, gratefully.

It was Daroga's turn to continue the story, and he addressed Anne again. "So, while Frederik was visiting the musician in Florida -,"

"And apologizing profusely for Harville's trials in trying to come up with a revision…" interjected Frederik.

"I visited the producers with your recording," Daroga nodded to Anne, "to see if some alternative could possibly be arranged."

"And, incredibly, they gave in and set up an appointment for me to meet with them!" exclaimed Frederik. "And after two consequent meetings, I've been able to run my red pen through our original contract and add my own contingencies."

"The particulars are somewhat unorthodox," commented Daroga. "You will be working for Frederik. But if you have no objections, you're hired to sing the _Siren's Song._"

Anne, not having been able to prepare herself, was forced to endure the flood of differing emotions that rushed through her without any ability to quell or control them. It was too much. When the offer, though it could hardly be called one, was finally thrust upon her, her foremost emotion was to be utterly repulsed. She was all but ready to turn on her heel and walk out of the room. It was taken for granted that she would accept the role, and nothing was further from her mind. Yet she tried with every ounce of her being to respond in a gracious fashion.

"You forget," she stated crisply, but calmly, "I have a job, and I will be expected to be in my office on Monday."

Gina spoke with an elated air, "But you told me yourself they have encouraged you to seek out a performance to fulfill your -,"

"Not at this short a notice, I assure you!" interrupted Anne. She was finding it excruciatingly hard to contain her frustration. Her words, spoken forcefully, allowed the others gathered around her to perceive that she was not pleased in some way.

Daroga looked upon her quizzically, and Frederik asked quietly, "Have you any other objection, apart from your previous commitment to the school?"

"I should think that would be enough. But yes; I do." The words were spoken calmly, but Anne's flush had traveled to her ears and neck. Her eyes, so serious, glowed with passionate disquiet.

"Excuse us," said Frederik as he motioned to her to quit the room with him, and walked away from the three other listeners. He accompanied the distraught woman out into the lobby, and they stood before the stairway which only days ago Anne had descended with thoughts of admiring her cousin's courteousness. "I perceive I have offended you, though I know not how."

Anne could not allow her mouth to speak at that moment. Not only did the impudence of his going behind her back to secure a position for her that she did not desire provoke her, but his nerve, having written the song for her voice and using her own words to mock her, in applying to her to proclaim those sentiments to the whole of New York City! All of her pent up frustration, on the tip of that untamed beast called a tongue, beckoned to be released upon the man before her. His head was bent attentively toward her; his questioning eyes only incited her more. She looked away, biting her lips to seal them, and praying that she could contain the flood which threatened to overcome her strength of will.

It was a business proposition. A business proposition! That's what he wanted, after nine years! She felt the pain boil over into her senses; her eyes were stinging. The tears would come; she could not stop them. She was going to cry like a child in front of him. No! She would not. This man was not Erik. He did not understand what she had endured all of these years. He would not witness her composure dissolving.

Her eyes alighted on the entrance to the stairwell. She skirted around him and passed down the rows of steps to the first floor. "Anne!" she heard him calling to her as she ran from the building, almost tripping on her way down the steps onto the sidewalk. She was blinded by the well of tears flooding her eyes; she couldn't see where she was going and didn't care. She would walk forever and never turn back. Consciously, she told herself it was insensible to think in such a way, but instinct sent her onward for the next block, swerving to avoid others in her path.

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**A/N: In Leroux's POTO, the Opera Ghost used red "ink" to add his own stipulations to the opera owners' memorandum book. So, was this too ooc for Anne? I suppose it is more of an **_**S&S '**_**Elinor' moment, but it had to be…**

**Misty Breyer: Laura Carteret is Constance Dalrymple's daughter in my story; the one who was overlooked for Fran Carlotta. She is the reason Walter Elliot isn't interested in attending the **_**Siren**_**. I love Jimmy Stewart movies!**

**followthestory: I laughed so hard when I saw your review. One word said it all.**

**Ana-Misa: No face-off between Raoul and Frederik, just hints that there might be more there than meets the eye. "I'm surprised that Elizabeth's sour expression hadn't marred her looks permanently." Whew. I gather you're not fond of Miss Elizabeth Elliot. **_**Becoming Jane**_** is good, eh?**

**bluetinkerbell: Yeah, I was trying to make Frederik's entry unexpected. Kind of how Anne would feel, taking a quick double take. But, maybe that is too confusing… hmm. Thanks!**


	57. A Sense of Too Much Silence

**A/N: Okay, I definitely want your thoughts on this chap after you've finished reading it. Plz! Plzzz!**

Chapter 57 – A Sense of Too Much Silence

She wandered about in a fast-paced daze, she knew not how long, until she was able to come to her senses enough to head to a nearby subway station. She boarded the train that would stop near Valeria's residence. She felt numb to the sensations of the jolting vehicle; nothing around her seemed real. When she found herself moving up the steps with the crowd, entering the street above, she called her godmother on her cell.

"How did your day with your father go?" Valeria asked, completely oblivious to Anne's state of mind.

"He had other plans," Anne answered calmly.

"Oh. Other plans, meaning he has not forgiven you?"

"No. We are amicable again; he truly had an appointment and sent me to tour the Dalrymple Spa," Anne returned mechanically, feeling detached from what had just occurred at the Fontaine.

"You sound out of breath. Are you at the spa now?"

"Oh, no. I am just exiting the subway. I've been for a bit of a walk. Are you at home?"

"Only just. Why?"

"May I drop by?"

"You are always welcome, dearest. But I'm terribly sorry; I am on my way out." Valeria apologized.

"Perhaps I could call you later?" returned Anne, feeling lost. She felt she must go somewhere and find a way to escape the feelings within her until she could better handle them.

"No, don't hang up, but hold the line a moment." She heard Valeria speaking to her assistant in the background. Anne took the opportunity to redirect her steps toward the opening to the underground transit vault. "Let me tell you why I have been so remiss of late," her godmother began animatedly, still oblivious to her goddaughter's flustered state. "I have been looking into the situation of a woman whose company I abhor. I'm sure you can guess of whom I am speaking…"

"Mrs. Clay."

"Precisely. Anne, it is worse than I thought. Do you know where she lived before she befriended your sister? I shall tell you. She was the guest of Basileia Morley, the cellist your father used to prefer for his chamber music ensembles. Penelope sponged off the woman for three years! Three!"

"How did you come by this news?"

"It does not matter. What is important is that I have the information. The husband she recently separated from? He was her fourth! And I've spoken with her second one, who seemed a very nice man. She ruined him financially in six months."

"Well, it is of no consequence for Dad. He has already done a first-rate job of spending himself out." Anne immediately regretted letting the words slip. She was not thinking properly, and after enduring such a trying moment less than two hours ago, her tongue was aching to speak without regard to her head.

"It is not that bad, Anne, especially since he took your advice to move to New York."

"That was not my advice, and consequentially, the situation has grown worse, I do not doubt." Anne, looking around her, spotted a coffee shop nearby and began to make her way to the entrance. She did not wish to enter the station until her call was over, and whether the present subject was the one she would choose to speak on, she did not care. Anything – anything! – other than Frederik Wentworth's _Siren_ was a welcome respite to her spinning emotions.

"I so wish that I could spend the evening telling you all! I have not told you half of the exploitations of Mrs. Penelope Clay." Valeria spoke the woman's name as though it was riddled with a plague. "I would invite you to attend the exhibit with me, but I am a guest of Greta Ibbotson."

"It is just as well. I have had a very tiring day," expressed Anne.

"At the spa?"

"No, I went to the Fontaine."

"Oh, you were with Raoul?"

"No – well, yes, earlier – but -. Oh, this is difficult. I was meeting Meg Giry." Anne hurried across the street with the influx of other citizens. "Please, don't ask particulars; it is hard enough to tell you this much! Frederik Wentworth has offered me a part in his musical." The words spilled forth of their own accord, though she had wished never to speak a word of it. Her entire being called out for assistance, for she felt as though she was mentally falling and could not grasp any object with which to stop the swift descent.

"What?" Valeria's voice held displeasure and shock.

"He needs a soprano to sing one piece, and he-,"

"He thinks he could just ask you because at one time you were great friends." Valeria huffed. "Who does he think he is? Of course, you told him no."

Anne did not respond. She was busy recollecting how badly she had behaved and feeling very embarrassed for it. She walked into the shop and perused the menu overhead.

"You didn't accept, did you? I am surprised-," surmised Valeria.

"No, no, Leri. I was too shocked to respond. You know my feelings about performing; I had no intention of accepting his offer. But-," Anne sighed again. "I was so taken aback…"

"I can imagine! Why would he ask you to do such a thing? It is very perplexing. Tell me, Anne, did something happen in Florida that you did not divulge?"

"Nothing of consequence; I merely agreed to sing the song for his friend, Harville, whom he had solicited to revise the score. Frederik thought it would be of aid to his friend if I sang a live rendition."

"But, why? Can't he hire someone to sing his songs?" Valeria was speaking loudly into the receiver. Anne perceived her friend was out-of-doors.

Anne replied, "No, I understand why he asked me. It was perfectly reasonable at the time. But now the score is not to be reworked, and it seems Frederik is pressed to find someone to sing it."

"I suppose I should feel a bit of sympathy for him in scrambling to find a performer for his musical, but I don't think I do! I think he is being very inconsiderate, Anne, and I'm glad you have decided not to accept. Just a moment." While Valeria was giving directions to her driver, Anne ordered at the counter. The pause in conversation gave her time to formulate one question in her mind: wasn't it her godmother who had encouraged her to sing again only months before? This development only brought Anne to see how very threatening Valeria found Mr. Wentworth's influence.

"But you must view the offer to sing as extraordinary?" her godmother readdressed the subject when she returned to her phone. "You have not performed in years!" The younger woman agreed and was silent. "Anne, I beg you to be completely frank. I will not be offended. Do you think he offered you this part to renew the relationship he once had with you?" The older woman asked the question very succinctly. She waited as the younger woman chose her words.

"Leri, it was business proposition. That is all."

"So, you do not think…"

"Not for a moment." Anne could not hazard another word. She did not want the older woman to perceive how very bitter her sentiments were on that account. Her godmother seemed assured and began again on Mrs. Clay's expulsion.

"Anne, we must be rid of Penelope immediately, even if it means offending Elizabeth."

"I don't think having Elizabeth for an enemy will be a means to that end. It is she who must decide to curtail Penelope's stay."

"Yes, but Mrs. Clay is too skillful to let that happen."

"I suppose you're right. I see no better plan, though. Going against my sister would be worse."

"Tell me, has Raoul been with them often?"

"Almost every day, I gather. He came over this morning to sit with dad."

"Really? This morning, you say? Well, he has never been there before noon from what I recall. Of course, I have not been visiting as often as I'd like. I have not been invited so readily, and, with my desire to find out more of Mrs. Clay's past, I have been preoccupied. But I shall be with you and your family on Friday, before the concert, for the Dame's gala. I expect it will be rather large."

"Yes. I am very curious to meet Dame Dalrymple."

Valeria nodded. "On Thursday, there is the celebrity gift suite, in honor of Fonta's charity-."

"Yes, well, I shall not attend the gift suite. I have a previous engagement."

"Where shall you be, then?"

"I have been invited to dine with Edward and Laticia."

"Ah. Give them my regards."

Anne returned to her apartment later that evening, having bolstered her spirits with the stimulation of a strongly caffeinated beverage. For she knew she would never sleep that night and much preferred to feel energized in the silence of her living room than come down from the flow of adrenaline to meet the unanswered queries of her mind which must result from such a confrontation with Frederik.

Anne acknowledged she felt very hungry due to her exertions. She quickly busied herself making a small repast, and turned on music; for even the muted sounds of the street nearby did not quell her sense of too much silence. Generally, she enjoyed the quietness, but tonight she was running from the clamor of her jumbled mind. As the last of her evening meal was eaten, she gave herself permission to admit that she felt pain. It hurt desperately to know that Frederik had finally confronted her, spoken with her, only to ask of her something she could not allow herself to give. He did not harbor a thought of what had been years ago; those words under the opera house were forgotten. But she had never let go; as many times as she had tried. Her love for him was a part of her, and in the past months it had grown without her knowledge. She had thought to best it; yet her attachment to Erik remained intrinsic to her very being. Even as she reproached herself for allowing her heart to be so deceived, her memory flew back to that earnest expression on Frederik's face when he had pulled her aside to speak with her in the Fontaine. The tone of his voice – his very manner! – so much like her Erik. And there it was again, the palpable ache in her chest, just the same as she had felt at the Academy. No, she could not endure this!

To her tiny balcony she retreated and listened to the noise of the environment about her. Sing. She needed to sing. She wanted to give vent to the emotion overcoming her sensibilities. The song came to her instantly, and she began. "Ou suis je," she sang, allowing the transcendence of song to envelope her like a cloak. She sang the duet and verily heard the voice of her Romeo singing his part. Passion of the ache within her came forth, beautifully trilling a woe which brought chills to her arms and the tears to her cheeks. "Va! ce moment es doux! O joie infinie et supreme de mourir avec toi! Viens! un baiser! Je t'aime!"

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**A/N: Lyrics from **_**Romeo and Juliet**_** are translated: "Where am I?" and, "Ah! This moment is sweet! O infinite, supreme joy of dying with you! Come! One kiss! I love you!"**

**Misty Breyer: I agree! That meeting at Milsom Plaza was too short. That's why he had to see her again; the worse for her, poor Anne. Yey! I'm so glad you are looking forward to the next chapter!**

**followthestory: "Raoul, my hot friend, you are trying to win a lost battle." You knew it all along, didn't you? Yes, you are right: Frederik is not handsome. His face is not symmetrical, don't forget. (Dr. Musgrove discusses this during the consultation.) He has a very distinguished look about him, though. There are Raouls all over the real world. There are few Frederiks, though. I think I just answered your question.**

**Nonny: Woah. The mammoth review. You know what amazes me? I think I agreed with almost all of it! (I posted on one of the JA ff forums about my feelings for P&P 2005.) **_**The Secret Life of Walter Mitty**_** is my fav Danny Kaye. You are right about the three aspects of this piece; that they all must culminate to bring closure. That is the main reason the scenes I have included from **_**Persuasion **_**are not in sequential order (which drives me batty).**

**Ana-Misa: Your perception regarding the discomfort w/ the rain on her clothes was great! I was going for the ice melting of being "only acquaintances" idea. (The cinnamon colored blouse gets darker, like melting fine chocolate…melting and water.) The rain comes straight from the book; this was the Milsom Street scene. (Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay go in Lady Dalrymple's carriage and there is no room for Anne.) Ah, yes. Raoul is just "de Chagny" to Frederik. Why would that be? (Evil grinning.) The whole Gowland's idea came to me while writing the first chapter; it was too **_**right**_**, so I kept it. I relished your review!!**


	58. Someone Beyond His Music

Chapter 58 – Someone Beyond His Music

Thursday morning found a lethargic Anne at work preparing her lesson plan. While revising a syllabus for the upcoming year, she checked her email and found a letter from Mary.

"_Dear Anne,_

_While I feel it is very cruel of you not to call or write for over a week, I have decided to overlook your neglectful behavior and tell you the news. I'm sure you will find it astonishing, though it isn't so much to me._

_Louisa has been home for some time. James Benwick accompanied her and the Harvilles after all. Harville and his family returned to Florida, for there was some work he had to attend to. Hardly a day passed in which some discussion between Benwick and Louisa regarding some book they were both reading was not had. I thought nothing of it until last Friday, when I noted how very serious a particular talk of theirs became. Charles says they were always speaking so, but it does not signify. They are engaged! I would think it more exciting except that they are both so solemn, and they are constantly reading to one another. It is the gravest love affair I have ever witnessed. They are planning the wedding for next summer when Louisa graduates. I do hope you will recall how Charles went on about James Benwick's being so taken with you. I was not convinced, and now you will see that I was right._

_Dr. and Mrs. Musgrove seem to have taken the news well. They are more concerned that Louisa will overdo in continuing with her studies in the fall. Still, that is her plan, and Benwick is interviewing for a position with an ensemble in San Francisco as I write this. The sad news is that this seems to have spurred matters between Henrietta and her preacher-fiancé. I have seen more of him than I would have wished this summer, and Henrietta does not give any sign of changing her mind again. So, I suppose I will have to sigh and take the task of raising this family in social sphere upon my own shoulders._

_I have not heard from Elizabeth but that she attended some spa opening. Her text message was very dull, being only seven words long. I gather that Penelope Clay is still a guest at Camden Place. How much longer does she intend to stay? I certainly wish I had been invited for such a lengthy visit!_

_I am attaching a picture of the boys and Shirley. Walter is begging for another dog already."_

Anne was ever so surprised as she reread Mary's email. Louisa was engaged to James Benwick! It was still too fantastical for Anne to comprehend. Could it be possible? She thought about Benwick's communication and recollected his words:

…_I believe my mind to be improving, though not completely owing to the perusal of literature…_

Of course! It made sense! He was there all the time while Louisa was recovering. He must have kept her company during those days of rest and recuperation. Anne laughed to herself; Louisa and Benwick had grown to understand each other while reading the thoughts of poets and philosophers. The smile left her face as she thought of Frederik. Did he know? She felt great pity for him, even after the sufferings of such a sleepless night. Anne recollected how he had spoken of Louisa. If only she could know what he would endure with such news! She, of all people, could empathize. It seemed hardly just that the man had been forced to leave the presence of the one he admired to address a family crisis, only to have Louisa's esteem for Frederik replaced so quickly. How many weeks had it been? A call interrupted her musings.

"Miss Elliot, Drew Brigden with the school. How are you today?"

"I am well."

"Good. Because of the short notice of your absence with us this semester, I wished to remind you that we will need your change of status form as soon as may be feasible. It will allow us to begin the process of finding a suitable substitute for the classes you cannot teach."

"Excuse me. I do not understand; what is the problem?"

"Oh, there is no problem at all, Anne. No problem. And I tell you, I'm glad for you. This takes a supreme burden off my shoulders as well. I judged from our conversation in the spring that you were not so disposed to complete the requirements for your doctorate by participating in a performance. To be in Frederik Wentworth's _Siren_ production, well, I highly congratulate you." He immediately added with a confidential tone, "And you needn't worry about the school fees, I will see that they are waived in light of this academic effort."

Anne could not utter a word after such a speech. She was completely baffled. Yet, to deny that she had such a role might verily go against her at the moment, academically as well as financially. Yet, she could not lie. "I think…" she began. "I think your congratulations are premature -,"

"I am sure they are not. Wentworth's good judgment in choosing you makes that evident."

Anne did not know how to take this. Brigden had perceived her statement to be a modest denial of her worthiness in taking the role.

"You know, Anne, if you should happen to find the opportunity, you might hint to him what an honor it would be to have him as guest speaker. Oh, and thank him for such a generous donation to the school. I spoke with his assistant myself. You are obviously highly esteemed; very impressive. You will come by the school directly, won't you?"

"Of course," Anne heard herself say. Really, she had to find out what had occurred before she explained any of it to the dean. As the call ended, she felt speechless. There had to be some explanation for why Frederik had taken the liberty of contacting the school. She would ask Edward the number for Frederik's assistant tonight at dinner. Yet the call continued to greatly distress the woman long after it had ended. Momentarily, she felt angered with the musician, but it dwindled quickly. After all, she had brought forward her teaching commitment as her only excuse.

A change was taking place within her psyche; and, gradually, her sentiments were manifesting themselves. She felt her resolve not to sing begin to falter. Was it partially owing to this news of Louisa? Surely that did not change her disinterest in performing? How difficult it would be to sing for a Broadway production after so many years of absence! And with no desire to do so, but because she felt she had to do it. No. She would not allow herself to be convinced she should sing the song to aid Frederik. Whatever could she hope to gain by accepting such a role? Did she believe that Frederik would suddenly look upon her differently? For, she had to be honest with herself; that was what she still craved. Yet, to believe that she could turn his head now was ludicrous.

He had made it quite clear he looked upon her appointment as a business arrangement. And he had verily expected her to be delighted with the offer, she had no doubt. Anne's brow furrowed as she recalled the meeting at the Fontaine again. He had been so sure of her. A shiver went through her as she recollected his eyes upon her, awaiting her response.

She found herself in a dilemma, not knowing what she should do. Surely he would find someone else! But what if he could not? What if she would be placing him in the same predicament in which he had been when he first visited Harville? She stopped herself. Her motives were not his motives. Frederik wanted a professional singer. Was she willing to settle for a business relationship? Part of her cringed at the thought of seeing Frederik again because she knew she could not let her heart be known.

'No!' reason declared to her. She needed to clarify that she would not, in any way, be interested in the offered part. He must be made to understand. If he should be at the concert on Saturday, she would take the opportunity to speak with him then.

"Good evening, Anne," welcomed Laticia Wentworth as she opened the door. "Edward will be down presently. Some news about one of his developmental software packages has detained him," she explained as she escorted Anne into the kitchen.

"Meg will not join us this evening. Frederik took her to Sophie's last night. It seems there is a weekend rehearsal scheduled, and so it was best for her to be with her mother now."

There was a small pause before Anne remarked to Laticia, "You seemed to have become settled here quickly."

"Oh, yes. We have stayed here before; I do so find New York to be exciting. Every morning seems to be a new beginning in this town, don't you think?" Anne nodded. "Edward is happy in any city. He finds friends wherever he goes."

"What city do you prefer over all?"

"Ah, that is difficult." Laticia thought for a moment while she handed Anne a pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator. "I really couldn't say, though I can tell you which city I found the least pleasing. I stayed at Deal when Edward and I were first married. I stayed with my sister while he researched a new venture. He was away for two months. I was never so sick or low as I was in Deal. I think as long as I am able to wander the Earth with him, I find joy; whether we are rich or poor. It matters not, as long as I am with him." Laticia Wentworth smiled at Anne. The single woman might have envied the happy wife if she had been inclined to know such a feeling.

"How long will you stay in New York, do you think?" Anne asked.

"Our stay here is dependant upon Sophie's situation at present."

"I am late, I see!" exclaimed Edward, entering the room. "Late for my own dinner party and offending one of the most delightful guests of honor in the town! How are you, my dear?" Anne put down the platter she was carrying to shake his hand before proceeding to the table. "I suppose the better question is: 'are you hungry?' Because I am famished, and if we don't eat soon, I think I shall wither away."

"I have heard the most incredible news regarding some dear friends of yours," Edward began while enjoying the repast. At the woman's upraised brow, he announced, "The Musgroves have much to be thankful for with the recovery of their daughter. And now I understand that the woman is engaged to marry one of Frederik's old cruise chums. How is that for an account best termed, 'stranger than fiction'?"

"You mean Louisa and Benwick? I hope they will be happy." Anne's brow creased as she tried to word her next statement. "I wonder if your brother was at all disappointed, for I know he was very devoted to her while she was in the hospital."

"The news does not seem to have affected him," Edward stated. "In fact, it was he who informed us of the engagement. He asked us what might be an appropriate gift to send. He has it in his mind to give them tickets to see the _Siren_, complete with a day at some spa or other."

"But the news could not have been easy for him," Anne hazarded, unsure of how to interpret the response from Frederik.

"Well, of course, it can't be very rewarding to know that another has out-done him. But, essentially, Frederik is not a man to sulk or feel ill-used." He turned and looked at his wife. "But, ah, there was a time when we could hardly bring him out of himself. Is that not so, my dear?" Laticia's expression was a sympathetic one.

"I believe you were vaguely acquainted with Frederik during your time at the Academy," Edward continued.

Anne did not know how to respond, but to nod mutely.

He looked thoughtful. "I don't know how long he was there, or what his work was, but he was a brooding fellow when he came to us. How many years ago was it now, Tisha?"

"Eight or nine, I think."

Anne felt a chill run through her but tried to keep her countenance unfazed. She silently pleaded that the man would go on. Could Frederik's frame of mind nine years ago have had anything to do with her?

"We were living in Lyon, then. I was having a bit of a time with my new business. I have always enjoyed inventing new things, but I had found it difficult to find a market for the projects which ever strike me as ingenious."

Edward grinned, and Laticia rejoined, "Now, you have had some successes as well. Don't let on that you haven't."

He shrugged. "Up to now, the biggest breakthrough was owing to Frederik's idea for a program designed for composers. That's what he did all the time, Anne. He wrote and played music day and night. Frederik would hardly eat or sleep. I would try to get him to talk, and he would only say he did not wish to do so. You can imagine the predicament in which that put a garrulous being such as I!"

Edward took a large forkful of gingered carrots and sat chewing. Anne felt almost desperate that the subject should not be dropped. She went out of her way to try for more information. "Your brother is so very talented when it comes to his music."

"Yes. I used one of his arrangements as a demonstration for my promotional presentations. That's when Daroga first heard his music. At the time, Daroga was an amateur producer/director who wanted to find talented writers and musicians to create a series of flashy productions. He felt he had to meet Frederik, though I doubted my brother would allow it. Yet, Frederik surprised us and met with him. They collaborated on a number of theatricals. Though they didn't fare well, it gave Frederik hope."

Laticia nodded in agreement. "After being detached from the world for so long, I think he finally knew that his life had purpose."

"He was so ambitious when it came to his music," Edward continued. "It was Daroga who convinced him to have facial reconstruction, I believe. When Frederik came up with his own plot for a musical, using the legend of the Laconia, he called up Daroga to find someone to help him write the script."

"His friend, does he go by any other name than 'Daroga?'" Anne inquired.

Edward laughed, "I have never heard him called anything else. He's an eccentric fellow, but Frederik will have none but him direct _The Siren_. He feels that Daroga understands the mood of the music and story as no other director would."

"I wonder what it was that kept Frederik so low," ventured Anne, after a small lapse of silence while dining. She hoped for some clue to what Edward had alluded.

"Mmmm…" he stated, enjoying the meal. "I believe there was an old man at the school, an employee of some sort. Frederik witnessed his death." Edward was shaking his head again. "The man had a heart attack, and Frederik felt to blame. He seemed to believe he had brought on the attack."

"It happened at night. The man had gotten himself into some sort of predicament, and Frederik had to assist him singly. He also walked some distance to find a phone to call for medical assistance," continued Laticia.

"Which is something I could never understand," interjected Edward. "Why couldn't he have gone back to Sophie's and had her call for aid? I suppose she wouldn't have let him. It was in the papers, you know. Sophie could have nothing to do with the press."

"Which is why he came to stay with us," concluded Laticia. "I remember that night. It was four in the morning, and, I believe, he had wandered around for some time before he knocked on our door. And he acted so strangely! Do you remember, Edward?"

"Oh, I remember! We were ever so grateful he opted to move into the basement two months later. Previously, we had endured his pacing. We could hear him throughout the night in the guest room, back and forth from wall to wall." Edward reached beside him to take Laticia's hand. "You were more patient than I."

"I felt so dreadfully sorry for him. He acted like a caged animal. I had never witnessed such restlessness in a human being!" She turned to Anne and explained, "He would go out with his mask at night about some business he would not disclose and return ever more anxious."

"After he went back to Sophie's to retrieve his instruments a few weeks later, something changed him. He was away for about a week and a half."

"Yes, he seemed angry when he returned, though more depressed than ever. I remember his saying something about wondering if his instruments would still be there, though I don't know what he thought would have happened to them. Surely Sophie would not have removed them from her house!"

"So, he lived with Sophie at the Academy?" interjected Anne, beginning to realize that Edward and Laticia's knowledge was incomplete on that point.

"Yes. At least, that is what I understood," answered Edward, looking at his wife with a pondering expression.

Laticia nodded her agreement and stated, "Anne, you look quite pale! Are you well?"

"It is my fault," assumed Edward, "I have been entertaining you with the most morose accounts. And yet," he added, "it is very difficult not to confide in you. You have such a way of making a person believe you are very intrigued with his conversation."

"Why, I am intrigued! What a tale!" Anne tried to find a way to express her sentiments without divulging from where the interest within her arose. "To know so much of Frederik's past before he came into his fame, I am amazed!"

"Yes, well, with all of his acclaim, he is still a very lonely man. In some ways, he is not much changed from the solemn musician keeping himself away from prying eyes in the basement."

"I confess I had such hopes for his future with Louisa Musgrove," expressed Laticia, looking rather pathetically at her half-eaten, toasted almond-topped chicken. "For, you know, it was the first time he has shown any real interest in something – or someone, I should say - beyond his music."

"That is true. Poor Frederik. After this sad business with Louisa, he must be satisfied with music or start over with someone else."

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**followthestory: You are right that Anne reached her limit. This was one of the "lyrical" moments I hinted about. But, she did not storm out; she bit her tongue and fled from the situation. She is very bitter regarding the song, yet she contained herself with the only option she had.**

**Martissa: "****I really hope they do get together, but I feel like Fredrick needs to feel little of her pain. I'm sure he has I'm just not aware of it." Nice analysis! I hope you viewed this chapter as having accomplished a little of what you felt was only just for Frederik. Great request; and I'll probably write more about his face again later. Until then, don't forget chapters 10 and 26 give a little more description.**

**Misty Breyer: Yes, your sense of the emergence of Christine is excellent! Judging from the last chapter, Anne could have used that chocolate and an arm around her. Valeria wasn't there for her; another sign that Leri's influence isn't as strong now.**

**Ana-Misa: There are a hundred things I forget to point out from POTO; thanks for bringing attention to the "Theatre Populaire." I suppose I feel that JA's Anne was always on the verge of showing her feelings outwardly, but was saved from doing so in the nick of time. My Anne is not given the reprieve to compose herself, but still finds a window of escape.**


	59. A Giving Heart

Chapter 59 – A Giving Heart

As Anne prepared to retire for the evening, she reviewed her conversation with the Wentworths. Frederik had suffered nine years ago. He had blamed himself when old Joe had died, and he had been the anonymous caller to inform the police. The poor man! Yet something within Anne suspected that it had not been Joe's demise that had condemned Erik to Edward's basement. Had her leave-taking been such a disappointment that he had felt he could not contact her as she had requested in her letter?

She thought about the story Sophie had confided regarding her past and realized that the woman had done more that last meeting with Erik than persuade Anne to leave. She had lied to her! She had made her believe that Erik was still living below the opera hall, when, in fact, he had already taken up residence in Lyon. Was it possible that they truly could have made a life of it? She shook her head as she pulled back her tresses to wash her face. What good was it to dwell on that now?

After washing her face, she opened the drawer of her nightstand and, pulling out the navy pamphlet, perused the score. She knew it by heart without even meaning to know it. She loved it! It was a beautiful creation, and she had felt moved to sing it almost from the first glance in the Grand Manor. But could she perform it before an audience at the Theatre Populaire? One question begged to be answered: Why had he written her words into the song? It was such a vindictive act.

* * *

"This is my youngest daughter: Anne," introduced Walter Elliot to the honorable Dame Constance Dalrymple. Anne greeted the Dame and looked upon her with interest and curiosity intermingled on her features. It did not astonish her that her younger sister, Mary, had been completely forgotten. It was her father's way to overlook people as insignificant as a younger, married daughter in California.

"Lovely. It's so lovely that you could attend," mumbled the Dame as she looked over their heads to the next set of guests entering her elaborate apartments. One of the servants ushered Elliot, his two daughters, and Mrs. Clay into the drawing room.

"Isn't it a well-furnished penthouse? I was quite enthralled when we were here last week," Mrs. Clay addressed Anne.

"Is that Raoul?" asked Elizabeth, after scanning the guests who were wandering about the gallery, drawing room, and balcony. "Oh, it is not. I wonder what has happened. It is so uncharacteristic of him not to call after so long a period of time."

Anne had to agree. She had been very surprised at the information that her cousin had not been to visit the occupants of Camden Place nor spoken to them since she had left him in the taxi cab two days ago.

"If you called him…" Elizabeth's friend suggested.

"Penelope, I told you, there is no point in calling him. He knows to call us." She ignored two gentlemen who passed and nodded toward her. She was in no humor to pretend to enjoy the attentions of the less influential businessmen of the Dame's gathering. She knew the faces and names of anyone of consequence, finding none of them in the number. Anne's older sister huffed. "This is going to be an insufferable evening."

"Elliot!" Mrs. Russell walked up to the party, and Elizabeth groaned quietly behind Anne. "Have you seen the display for Fonta's charity in the music room? You should look in on it."

"Ah, I'm sure," Elliot was not interested. He had his eye on the mirror hanging on a wall to the left of him and was adjusting the cuff of his shirt to lie correctly as his arm was crooked.

"Anne, would you like to accompany me to see the display?" Valeria asked. She assented and, as she was pulled away, her godmother stated, "I want you to meet Laura Carteret; she is in the room as well. What did you think of the Dame?"

Anne reiterated the only word that came to her mind regarding the woman. "Lovely."

"Anne, this is Laura Carteret. Miss Carteret, this is the Great Elliot's daughter, Anne."

They greeted one another, and Anne took in the simple indigo suit with white trim. The woman was thinner than she, with highlighted chestnut and ivory locks which just touched her shoulders. Her face was very large in comparison to her small frame. Her nose was especially prominent. She looked to be a younger replica of her mother but for her taller stature.

"Welcome to our home. I am so glad you could attend. Isn't Fonta's work brilliant?"

Anne was able to emit a small concurrence before Miss Carteret continued. "I hope we can all make a difference to the Idoso tribe and keep their homeland from being destroyed. Have you seen this information?" Anne was given a small brochure. "It's important to be aware of the situations in other regions of our world. It will help you to make your decision about how much you can be of aid."

Valeria was pulling Anne towards a very large display which was a three-dimensional model of what she assumed was the area where the Brazilian tribe resided. A portion of the layout showed how much devastation had occurred to the vegetation in the surrounding regions. Once the two women left the music room, Anne spoke honestly to Valeria. "I did not know this dinner was on behalf of Fonta's charity."

Valeria shrugged. "Nor did I, and I am quite disappointed that he is not expected at all. I was of the impression it was for him, were you not?"

Anne admitted she had only been informed of the gala mere days before by her father.

"Where is your father? Ah, I see him; he is with the Franklands. I see Elizabeth is refusing to talk to Mina Frankland again. There was some rumor that Raoul had dinner with them last week." Valeria laughed. "I highly doubt Raoul was taken with the charms of Miss Frankland, though, if he had to choose between Elizabeth and Mina alone - Hello, George. Abby! Do you know what you are wearing to the concert tomorrow night? I'm sure it will be gorgeous. I've had a terrible ordeal getting my gown fitted properly. I've had to stand for three alterations already! I won't hire _her_ again."

Anne walked away and wished that she could be anywhere but in the Dalrymple apartments. To spend even one night in such tedious company was very trying. Now that she had met the Dame and her daughter, she felt worse. They had no great merit, but to take part in the common trivialities of elite society. Sell or be sold; that was the crux of the crowd around her this evening, flaunting their great wealth by masking it through the condescension of giving miniscule portions to myriads of causes. She wished that Raoul might appear. She judged that he would see through the superficiality and smile upon it with indifference. Yet, she did not feel any closer to him for the understanding that they shared. The one she really wanted to speak with would never set foot in this company, no matter how famous he became. Or perhaps he would. Did she really know Frederik Wentworth well enough to assume that?

She had all but decided that she wished to speak with him regarding the part. She would sing the piece, but only until he could find someone else to fill the role. Surely the school would allow her a part-time position with a three-hour French dictation class one day a week and tutorials. For she believed she could not support herself on less. She had exhausted all connections trying to find a suitable roommate, and was fearful she might have waited too long for a dependable individual to whom she could sublet her second room. But she wanted to help Frederik. Somehow, between the lines of Edward's account, she had unearthed this nugget of truth: that Frederik had not forgotten her so easily. She felt closer to him now and wanted to aid him in bringing about everything he envisioned for his production in presenting it to such an intimidating city. Just to be able to help him; there was a satisfaction in that.

* * *

The buzz from the door at the street informed Anne that Valeria's car was outside. She quickly put her lipglaze into her wristlet and hurried from her apartment to meet her.

"This will be an important evening for your father," Valeria expressed, smoothing her hair. Anne knew what her godmother would not say. It would be important for her, as well, as part of the family put on display at the concert.

"They seem happy here, do you not think?" It took a moment for Anne to comprehend that her godmother was speaking of her father and sister.

"I do. Even though Elizabeth is not desirous to show it, I think they have found their niche quickly," she responded.

"You mentioned something over the phone about your father's financial situation worsening. What makes you so certain?"

Anne hesitated. If her father had not confided in Valeria, it would be unwise for her to tell of her father's matters. "It is apparent that their spending has not been curbed."

"While I admit persuading them to be more conscious of living expenses has not been fruitful, I had hoped that employing less help and being entertained by-"

"By the likes of the Dame, who invites her friends over for monetary gifts for others' charities?"

"Why, Anne. I'm surprised at your objection. At least they are giving to assist others."

"I do not agree. They are giving to look good. They haven't the least concern for the tribe in Brazil."

"Perhaps your father is not as conscientious as you and likes to flaunt a bit. But really, what is the harm in it?"

Anne did not respond, her lips in a thin line. The more she conversed with Valeria, the more difficult it became for Anne to overlook her superficiality. Still, Anne told herself, as Valeria settled back in her seat not desiring to continue in disagreement, she would not distance herself from her friend because of her own convictions. She could still love her Leri, as she had always loved her. Her godmother had tried her best over the years to give Anne what she could of attention, consolation, and opportunity. Valeria Russell's heart had always been in the right place when it came to Anne Elliot. She would always be grateful for such a selfless love, no matter how Valeria's views might rankle. For verily, Anne knew she had flaws of her own with which others must contend.

"I have news which is of a delightful nature," began Anne, trying to find a neutral topic on which to converse. She informed her godmother of Louisa's engagement.

"Benwick; I recall the name. Wasn't he interested in you?" When Anne did not respond immediately, considering Benwick's feelings, Valeria's expressive eyes perused her countenance. "Tell me, does this news affect you, my dear?"

At that moment, it truly struck Anne how very fortuitous her lot had been. She could have become far more attached to Benwick than she had. She assured Valeria that she felt pleased for the couple and her friend was satisfied. Yet Anne contemplated, as they got out of the Russell towncar to transfer themselves to the Elliots' stretch limousine, that Frederik had not been so fortunate. All around him had been speculations of a deep attachment to Louisa. Even with Edward's sentiments accounted for, the woman was not certain that the brother's observations should be relied upon so completely. She desired to know, firsthand, whether Frederik might indeed be suffering under the disappointment of Louisa's engagement. She hoped, once more, that Frederik would be present at the concert. For, she determined that this opportunity would not be forfeited.

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**A/N: I am not against supporting a cause. I am merely trying to bring out the aspects of Walter Elliot's lack of concern for the plight of others and Anne's discretion and true spirit of giving. Today, charitable organizations are everywhere, and celebrities are expected to take up a cause or causes publicly. In **_**Persuasion**_**, it was Anne who visited the Kellynch neighborhood and tended to the concerns which her father should have taken a thought for.**

**Misty Breyer: I have seen TCJ! I had forgotten. I'm goofy enough that I break out in song when I'm in line sometimes. Now you know how nuts I really am. Yeah, I was suffering with Anne, too. My beta told me it had her near tears, and another previewer told me it depressed her.**

**Nonny, Nonny, Nonny: Three reviews in one chapter; for shame, you rule-breaker! (Smiling, nonetheless.) I'm glad you expressed your confusion at Anne's reaction; it concerned me that it might be too dramatic. Anne's reaction is definitely one of a person who feels pain and, as an artist, is exorcising that spirit. Like a temperamental painter might splash the canvas with blacks and reds in violent strokes, Anne was venting; only, she is not aggressive.**

**pushthebuttonmax: Another Frederik vote! Ah, you've based your decision on your love of J.A.'s **_**Persuasion**_**. How can I argue with that? (Grinning)**

**bluetinkerbell: A crude way to put it, but, yes, it was terrible for Anne. Hopefully the last chapters have looked up. So, you really think Anne's love is requited?**

**Ana-Misa: It was from Act 5. When Juliet wakes she is so happy, only to find that Romeo drank the poison. I was comparing that with Anne's feelings that she loves and yet that love is dead. She allows herself to express her pain in that "lovers' farewell." Very melodramatic, but then, venting helps her get over it.**

**followthestory: Yeah, Anne was in a slump. She should just forget about Frederik, huh? She keeps trying to! He just keeps showing up and throwing her off-balance.**


	60. The Return of Erik

Chapter 60 – The Return of Erik

Anne tried to conceal her astonishment to find Raoul situated in the limousine as she entered therein. Nothing had been heard from the man for long enough that she had suspected the vicomte had parted ways with her father. Yet, there he was, seated on the white leather behaving as if he'd never neglected the inhabitants of Camden Place.

"Do not sit on my dress!" commanded Elizabeth as Anne sat beside her. The differing varieties of scents were overwhelming in the vehicle.

As they moved forward into the busy street, Elliot exclaimed, "I am pleased to see that all of you are well. I was concerned some illness might leave our number uneven." He turned to Valeria, "It has already been settled that I will walk with Mrs. Clay, Elizabeth with our dear Raoul. So you and Anne will follow behind them." Valeria nodded, though her eyes clearly bespoke her horror. Walter Elliot was choosing to run the gamut of photographers with Penelope Clay on his arm. What would the tabloids do with this?

"You look well tonight, Anne," expressed her father as he looked across to view his youngest daughter. "I am glad you chose that gown. I believe I remember it from my retirement concert, eh?" Elizabeth smirked.

"I thought it was becoming then, and though that blushing pink is not in fashion now - it would be for spring if it had a peach tint – it brings out your coloring well." He nodded approvingly at his daughter, while Penelope Clay simpered in her agreement.

"Have you been using something to revitalize your skin?" he asked, after feeling to find the dimple in his layered silk necktie to be perfection. When Anne denied the use of any new cosmetic, her father replied, "You should consider using Gowland. I've found it to be exceptional for fine lines…" Anne looked up, swiftly perceiving that her father had only just realized how his words might allude to the meeting she doubted he would wish to bring up in present company.

Anne considerately changed the subject, "I understand Dame Dalrymple and her daughter will be in attendance tonight."

"Yes, that is so." Walter Elliot sat up straighter in the seat. "Connie looked well last night, did she not? I did not tell you of my conversation with her. I was condoling with her on her daughter's disappointment in not performing in that _Siren_ travesty. She was very forgiving, dear woman. She begged me not to be too concerned over it; that Miss Carteret felt no ill will toward the Carlotta woman or the producers. I, on the other hand, do not think it so easy a thing to get over. Dame Dalrymple's daughter should have been chosen over a film star!"

"It's a different era, Dad. Film stars draw the audiences," stated Elizabeth matter-of-factly. "Though I doubt Mr. Frederik Wentworth will think himself so above the influence of New York society after the set down I gave him the other day." The older sister smiled at her friend from across the limo as though she had been very witty.

"I doubt Frederik had anything to do with casting Fran Carlotta," asserted Anne.

Elizabeth huffed. "You know nothing about the business, Anne. But why should you care? You hardly pay attention to what society thinks-"

"It doesn't matter," interjected Valeria.

"Quite right. We will be there shortly, and it would be better not to speak on topics that might cause one's face to become blotchy. Johnston," Elliot spoke into the limo phone, "I've changed the temperature to read 60 degrees, and it still feels too warm in here." He turned to Valeria beside him, "You'll excuse me if I ask you to adjust the position of your arm. Our shoulders might touch and cause my sleeve to wrinkle."

"Oh, of course," said Valeria, turning herself so that the offending shoulder would not be in his way.

Raoul, on Walter's right, caught Anne's eye briefly. She knew he was laughing inwardly. Mrs. Russell had not been near him in the first place, but the Great Elliot must have his space well-delineated.

Less than an hour later, the retired virtuoso announced with trepidation, "We are here. What time is it? Good. We will wait for direction. Stay directly behind me." They waited until the car door was opened. As Anne was handed from the limo, some mix-up occurred within the Elliot party. Anne found herself linked to the arm of Raoul. She looked for Valeria but did not perceive the woman until she had neared the entrance. The walk was interminable. How insignificant she felt as the cameras flashed and lights shown about her. It was a familiar feeling from her past, and she remembered her training and inhaled. She would perform her part as her father's child. He would be incensed if he were to turn and see her looking less than confident. Years of youthful experience had Anne instinctively holding up her head, her shoulders back, and donning a charming smile. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes was all her father asked of her, then she could look for Frederik.

"I get the impression," stated Raoul in her ear, "you are quite proficient at this." She turned to look at him, the smile still plastered on her countenance.

"As a child, it was all I ever knew," she responded, allowing her features to imply she was speaking of some matter of delight.

"Family duty; I know it well," he commented as they neared her father and Mrs. Clay.

Her father had resisted some direction to continue forward, and, to his embarrassment, he was politely asked to proceed. "Oh, of course!" he responded and entered the large waiting area of the hall, known as the Octagon Room.

Many of the concert-goers were standing in cliques waiting to meet the newcomers, discussing Fonta's program and many other topics which interested them most at the moment. Raoul had been captured by Elizabeth, who whispered beside him, nodding toward certain individuals in the room. Anne knew her older sister was acquainting her cousin with the latest gossip of the elite since his absence. Valeria had walked across the large foyer to speak with Greta Ibbotson.

Anne pulled away from her party to view the many faces. Once she'd ascertained that Frederik's was not among them, she moved closer to her father's coterie once more. Walter Elliot was eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Dame, and his position gave an excellent view of the entrance. She felt assured in the knowledge that he would not leave the Octagon Room until he was accompanied by the Dame. And, since the Dalrymples were the toast of the town this season, she doubted not that the Dame would be one of the last to enter the building. This thought satisfied Anne that she would be sure to espy Frederik before retreating into the concert room.

"Excuse me, miss," A young woman behind the table, to which Anne had inadvertently backed, addressed her. "Have you received a program?"

Anne took the offered pamphlet, and the woman at the table continued. "In the center of it, you will find an envelope for your pledge to the Idoso tribe. We ask that you consider this while you enjoy the concert. Tell me, have you already considered your donation?"

Anne responded, "I already have a cause which I support; I thank you."

"I understand, but there is always more to give. We have so much in this country, you know-,"

"Excuse me," Anne interrupted. She had looked over her shoulder, noticing out of the corner of her eye that a tall, dark man had entered the room. She wasn't sure if her father had noticed him; he wasn't the Dame, therefore he wasn't worth his attention. Her heart was in rapid motion before her feet began to walk the distance from the position behind the Elliot clique to address the musician. Yet she was aware of no one else in the room as she hurried toward him. She felt almost out of breath as she caught his eye. For, he had been scanning the crowds as though looking for someone, as well.

"Eh – Frederik," she stated, her face already burning; she had come so close to calling him 'Erik.' But she was determined not to let her moment pass and pressed forward, willing the words to come to her lips. Kind words; welcoming ones.

"How are you this evening?" She hoped Frederik would not perceive her nervous state and grasped her wristlet in an attempt to keep from wringing her hands.

A small enigmatic smile was visible on his countenance which flustered her more, but she waited and stood her ground. He walked toward her, clearing the path for the guests coming through the door behind him, then stopped, as someone entering into the foyer called to him.

She was a thin but shapely woman dressed in an apple-red, low-cut gown. "Frederik, I told you I wouldn't be a minute. You are far too impatient. You know I am forced to give plenty of photo ops; you act as if you don't care about the publicity for the _Siren_…" Her voice trailed away upon seeing the small dark-haired woman addressing Mr. Wentworth.

The courage had left Anne as she looked upon the stunning presence of Frederik's date. "I am well, Anne. And you?" he responded coolly to her; he had been watching her reaction.

"Who are _you_?" the flamboyant woman asked, approaching Frederik's side. Anne, feeling less significant than she had under the glare of the cameras outside as the woman's amused blue eyes sized her up, was saved the trouble of answering.

"Francesca, this is a dear friend of mine, Anne Elliot. Anne, Francesca Carlotta." Carlotta pushed back an auburn curl from her cheek, lifted her hand to Anne, allowing only her fingertips to touch and quickly removing them. Anne looked into the woman's eyes and noted a malevolence even Elizabeth Elliot could not produce.

"Aren't you adorable," she stated, as though she was speaking to a small child. "Anne, you said?" repeated Carlotta to Frederik. He did not respond, and Carlotta excused herself, far more interested in flitting about the room looking for admirers. Anne's gaze was on Frederik. She watched his eyes flicker above her head and knew that he had noticed her father standing beyond her. This motion buoyed her to act on her resolve; she would not be distant with Frederik. She recalled her sister's snub at Milsom Plaza and the remarks she made about him in the limo. She was determined that her actions should convince the man before her that she did not participate in such snobbery. Whether he cared for it or not, he would always have her friendship and esteem.

"I understand you and Meg visited Sophie recently. You found her well, I hope?" she said, attempting to make conversation.

"She is much improved. I believe some of her illness is owing to her determination to neglect her own care for too long. Now that she is receiving better attention, she seems to be reviving," he responded openly.

"I am relieved to hear it, and I know how that must encourage Meg."

"Yes, though I think my niece is too dependent on her mother for her own good." Anne opened her mouth to respond in some polite non-response, calculated to keep the conversation flowing, when Frederik interrupted her, "Anne, I hardly expected such a greeting from you moments ago. After my mistake at the Fontaine, I thought-"

"Oh, my behavior at the Fontaine; it was – I was – I wasn't prepared. It had never entered my mind!"

Frederik was nodding. He touched her arm as a gesture that she should move from the path of the new entrants, for they were still too near the door. The touch had been unexpected, and her senses caused her to react in a rather jumpy manner as she followed him. She moved closer to her father's party but did not turn to view their expressions. She did not wish to see the reproof on the faces of her father and sister; nor did her eyes wander to the section of the room where Valeria stood. Yet her curiosity drew her eyes to Fran Carlotta, who was attracting much attention.

Frederik brought her attention back to him quickly with his next words to her. "It was very inconsiderate of me not to consult you beforehand regarding the part. If I had, I could have ascertained what might have kept you from accepting." The thought flashed into her mind of his communication with the school. She now perceived that he had been trying to make amends by aiding her - at least, what he thought would aid her. She allowed her expression to tell him all was forgiven. She watched as his features softened. "I – I feel as though we have not truly spoken to one another since that day at the lighthouse. Are you – have you recovered from the shock of Louisa's fall? For, sometimes when you are able to keep your wits about you during the actual event, you can fall apart as a consequence."

"I am recovered," she assured him. Whether by design or no, his bringing up the time they had spent in Florida helped Anne to feel more at ease. It greatly bolstered her to perceive that he was not influenced by the society about them.

"What a day that was! Truthfully, I didn't know myself for the two weeks afterward that I stayed on in St. Augustine. Since then, I have hardly been at leisure to think on it properly." He shook his head feelingly. Anne waited for him to lift his head that she might peer into those translucent, tawny eyes and note his emotions regarding the newly-formed engagement. Yet, she could not ask outright.

Curiously enough, his eyes were merry as they met hers and he spoke. "And no one could have imagined that such a horrible incident would have culminated in restoring _two_ struggling minds to happiness."

Anne could hardly know how to react to his thoughts, but to respond, "I could never have imagined it. I hope the best for them. Louisa and the Captain are such dear souls, so affectionate and feeling."

"Oh, yes. They are an affable pair, and there is no objection where family is concerned to keep them from the union. The Musgroves have welcomed Benwick without issue. They will be happier, I daresay, just because there are no family squabbles to mediate. Sometimes I think the one to whom a person is closest can be the source of the most heated conflict when it comes to… Well," His eyes looked away briefly, for he had spoken his words with an intensity which he himself had not expected, it seemed. Anne, caught up by the return of the old Erik underneath the polished musician, had not sensed where the man was headed in his musings until he broke off. She craved that he would continue. Yet she was afraid to prompt him for fear he might decide he had said too much and move away. She watched to see whether his eyes, perambulating over the room, might alight on someone. She recalled that he had been searching for a person when he entered. His face, raised from hers in a casual reprieve, returned to her own quickly, giving her cause to believe that she, at least, was the one to whom he wished to speak at present.

"I wonder," began Frederik, his eyebrows lowered in a modicum of concern, "whether Benwick has so very much in common with her, other than what you addressed earlier." He quickly added, "Truly, I wish them all joy, but – You see, I know Benwick. There is a part of him that goes deeper, and I can't help but question: Can he learn to love Louisa with a devotion equal to the one he felt before? I think it impossible. How can a man expect – he should not expect -,"

Frederik's eyes flashed in the old way and sent chills over Anne's arms. It was only after she realized that a commotion at the entrance had caught his attention that she was able to release the breath she had been holding.

Dame Constance Dalrymple had entered the Octagon Room.

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**Ana-Misa: "I don't know if I'm appalled at Frederik's presumptions or Anne's willingness to forsake such an opportunity." They both have their reasons, and neither are aware yet of the other's motivations. Explaining Anne's pov: Music became a disappointment to her when Erik did not try to contact her over the years. Hold on to your OG expectations! Admiral Croft said a similar "start over" line to Anne; so, yes, very ironic. I'm sighing now because I've finished reading your review. I adored it!! You pointed out so many interesting aspects that I truly feel you really know what is going to happen already!**

**bluetinkerbell: Yes. I had to take **_**Persuasion**_**'s events out of sequence and add a few of my own to make this story work. I hated it, but preferred to continue writing than give it up because I didn't follow **_**Persuasion**_**'s storyline precisely. Thank you for enjoying it anyway.**

**full0fgrace: Did you ever feel like there wasn't enough Anne/Frederick interaction in **_**Persuasion**_** after they got together? Austen left the concluding intimate conversations between the couples to the imagination. I'm considering this tendency of Austen's in light of this work. Should I do the same?**

**Misty Breyer: Oh, yes. More POTO elements to come with the theatrical. Thanks!**


	61. One So Calculated to Charm

Chapter 61- One So Calculated to Charm

"Dear Connie!" Anne heard her father exclaim over the hubbub. Anne was pained to perceive that Dame Dalrymple hardly acknowledged her father, who was bent on propelling himself into the icon's presence. She was commenting some word to her daughter when her eyes lit on the place where Anne stood. She was taken aback to see the Dame come towards her.

"Mr. Wentworth," she began as she held out her hand to the musician. Walter Elliot and his party held back diffidently but soon followed along like a gaggle of goslings behind their mother. "I am Constance Dalrymple," she introduced herself as Frederik took the offered hand. He seemed unable to account for the Dame's reception, as well.

"You will, perhaps, remember my daughter, Laura Carteret?"

"Yes, of course." Frederik politely responded, greeting her as well. It was difficult to perceive whether the composer truly did recall the Dame's daughter.

"I only wanted to congratulate you on the upcoming opening of your theatrical."

"I am honored, Ms. Dalrymple."

"Dame Dalrymple," Walter Elliot corrected him. Then, speaking to the Dame, he stated, "Connie, you remember my daughter, Anne?"

"Oh, yes," acknowledged the Dame politely, though she hardly looked at the woman. "Mr. Wentworth," she resumed, "it will be a splendid production, I am sure. Laura and I have vowed not to miss it." Now the crowd about the Dame and famous composer began to catch on. Constance Dalrymple was making a public statement of sorts that there were no ill feelings harbored on account of Laura Carteret's inability to secure the lead role. Compassion rushed through Anne as she watched her father's face falter perceptibly.

"Yes, Wentworth," he conceded, "brilliant. The _Siren_ has been described as brilliant."

Fran Carlotta was suddenly at Frederik's side. "Dame Dalrymple, what a pleasure! I have wanted to meet you for simply ages!" Fran deliberately crossed in front of Anne, who had been looking at Frederik, watching the change come over him. Not a glimpse of the passionate man concerned over his friend's match was to be seen. Frederik Wentworth, famed composer, handled himself winningly, performing his part for the public eye. The well-wishers surrounded him and Fran, intent to outdo themselves with compliments. Anne knew that she did not feel the least frustration at his popularity or the interruption to their discussion. She felt somehow unsure of herself; that had she continued another moment with him it might have found her too open, too ready to believe that he was Erik again and she was Christine. She needed the time to recollect herself but determined that, during the intermission, she would make her best effort to approach him once more. She had to find the right words to tell him she would sing the song, and to be certain that he was still offering the part to her.

Oh, she felt jubilant. She could not easily shake the feelings of hope-filled wonderment, regardless of the shadow of Fran Carlotta. Something about Frederik's tone and looks had held a semblance of the man she had known years before. Those few words shared with him had meant everything to her. Consequently, she radiated the felicity of her soul outward and was disposed to be overly courteous and attentive to everyone. She perceived that Raoul was beside her, and he did not leave her as the ushers announced that the concert was soon to begin. The crowd within the Octagon Room entered the concert hall, a well-designed auditorium positioned so that its inhabitants felt as though they were sharing in an intimate gathering. Walter Elliot looked ecstatic to be entering with the Dame, having found that his seat would closely correspond with her own. Elizabeth had her own reasons to feel pleased; for Miss Carteret walked beside her as they traversed the aisle. Anne's eye roamed over the theater but she could no longer distinguish Frederik. Her own seat was beside Raoul's, since Valeria exchanged her own with him, vowing his seat was a much better view.

She tried for many minutes to search out Frederik's position. She found Carlotta and noted that she was being seen to by some other gracious gentleman. But where was Frederik? He could not have just disappeared! She smiled to herself; of course, he had always been good at concealing his whereabouts at the Academy.

Raoul noticed the smile and stated, "You have a great love of music, I perceive. Your face; it is lit with anticipation of the performance. I hope you won't forget your poor cousin who will be stumbling over the lyrics."

Anne laughed. "I have already ascertained that Fonta's program will not delve into his familiar repertoire until the last selections of this first half. Most of the pieces will be a tribute to the music of Brazil and its composers, many movements of which do not contain words at all."

Raoul looked sheepish and bowed his head. "Forgive me if my eagerness chiefly arises from enjoying this concert with _you_."

Anne looked away, flustered at his frankness, but still too elated within to consider what his professions were meant to make her understand. He looked at her with his teasingly serious expression, one so calculated to charm, and whispered, "Have I affronted your modest views of yourself? I would apologize, but I can not. There is no use in taking back words that are the truth. I have been acquainted with you long enough to know you greatly underestimate the alluring qualities you possess. My time with you has affected me so that I feel myself a changed man in your presence."

"A changed man?" answered Anne, curious to know what Raoul could mean by calling himself such.

He noted her interested expression and continued. "When I spoke to you of my patronage the day we returned from the Dalrymple spa, I did not elaborate that my support included celebrating a bit wildly in my younger years." Raoul quickly added, "I think that I have learned from my experiences, though. I now know to incorporate moderation."

From such an introduction, he proceeded to soften the portrait and skim over the less tasteful aspects of his earlier life as the crowd settled. While he considered his history as a sort of penitent confession, in which the result would be to endear him to her heart, she was miles away from feeling any gratitude in the honor of his confidence. Had Raoul been able to fully comprehend the perception of the quiet woman beside him, he would not have wasted his breath. She knew there was something in his account which did not ring true. She had hardly expected such a debonair man to be as ignorant of the world as he excused himself as being. Anne began to entertain a sense of doubt at having understood the man sitting next to her at all.

Yet, it did not affect her to behave in any way other than to nod and give the appropriate words of having understood him. She was in far too good a mood to question her cousin; she was still intent on the presence of another in the room, wherever he was. As the lights drew toward the center of the stage and the maestro walked out onto it to great applause, she was content to immerse herself in the delightful experiences of the music, knowing that she was sharing it with another who would revel in its enchantment as well.

On the other side of Anne sat a woman and her daughter. Even in the darkness, both turned in their seats looking for someone and whispering to one another. Anne, wanting to do the same, at times, but knowing it would give her no greater peace of mind, was vaguely aware of their inattentiveness during the first two pieces.

Raoul made slight comments but was content to take in the entertainment without offending the senses of the music-lover beside him. When it was time for one of Fonta's signature Italian arias, the soprano escorted onto the stage in grand fashion, Raoul was quick to bring out his own program and seek his cousin's assistance. Anne interpreted the song, though she felt to do so was troubling. The words, so poignant in their own language, lost some of their power when spoken in English. Anne expressed this to Raoul, and he gave a quiet laugh, whispering, "Perhaps the sentiments might better be translated into French." Recalling her interpretation, he spoke in his native tongue what he thought might better describe what she had relayed. She did not think the description better than the original, perhaps partly owing to the fact that the man was left to interpret the sentiments from her English version. Still, her head was bent close to his throughout the remainder of the piece without considering what an onlooker might misconstrue her relationship with Raoul de Chagny to be.

Intermission came too soon for Anne, who returned to reality to realize that a task of great import was ahead of her. She felt both excitement and dread at the thought of speaking with Frederik again. A portion of her wished to bask in those feelings she had recently dwelt upon before the performance, but the other portion had had time to persuade her that what she had heard and seen of Mr. Wentworth had been a fallacy of the heart. She could hardly trust herself to be objective about the meeting. Tricks of this kind were played often in the minds of those who loved, whose love was not returned. Still, hers was a business errand, and she knew she must hasten to accomplish its end. Raoul, asking if he might procure for her some refreshment, was promptly denied such a service.

She searched around her as the assembly of concert-goers meandered toward the front of the hall. Looking up to the second tier, she espied Frederik; she was almost certain! She hurried toward the Octagon Room, her eyes searching about the tables, benches, and crowd around her. She focused on the stairway to the upper levels, hoping to glimpse him should he descend from that portion of the theater. It was Valeria Russell who found her so.

"Why, Anne, where is Raoul? I thought he was with you."

"No," Anne hardly looked at her.

"Did you enjoy the first half?"

"Oh, yes. It was incredible!" Anne said earnestly, thoughts of the performance bringing her eyes to Valeria's.

The older woman was nodding her head. "I thought you and Raoul were enjoying it," she rejoined with a smirk, almost imperceptible. But Anne saw it and swallowed hard. Had Valeria misinterpreted her actions toward Raoul? His attentiveness to her during the aria and her reciprocation; all of this could have been misread, not only by Valeria, but by the very man for whom she waited! Fear gripped her as she realized what her inattentiveness might have cost her, her eyes traversing the Octagon Room again. Did he suspect her relationship with Raoul to be more than it really was; and, because of this, would he not return to the lobby to address her once more? Valeria had left her now; and Anne, feeling overwhelmed by so many misgivings, felt panic rise within her. She would go to him.

She took the stairs to the second tier, looking around the darkened area, searching for Frederik. She did not see him.

Though the view was still pleasing, those concert-goers who had acquired standing room tickets were positioned on the outskirts, making the seating above overcrowded. The two females, who had been beside her during the first half, were standing near a man who sat at the end of a row. They were speaking of the concert in detail, when Anne heard the older woman suggest to him, "Perhaps you should sit with her during the last half."

"My seat is perfectly fine," he argued.

"But, if we can not be together…" his wife began.

"Oh, I wish I could sit here by myself, and then you could go down and sit with Dad, Mom," the young girl said sorrowfully.

"I beg your pardon," interrupted Anne, addressing the man. "I believe I have the seat beside your wife. Why don't I trade with you for the second half?"

Oh, no. No, I couldn't. But that is very thoughtful."

"Not at all; I was hoping to find a friend who, I believe, is seated on this level," she coaxed. In the corner of her eye she saw a figure and knew it to be Frederik. She looked up and he was watching her. She was sure he could ascertain what her motive truly was.

The man to whom Anne had just offered her seat looked askance at his wife. He accepted, thanking her again, and left the upper tier with his companions as the lights began to dim in the room, a warning for the stragglers in the audience to return to their seats hastily. Anne, wishing to approach Frederik, found herself on the other side of the influx of viewers returning to the second level, anticipating the remaining performance. The darkness settled, and, more out of politeness than desire, Anne sat down in her newly acquired seat and waited for the concert to commence. As Fonta returned to the stage and announced his next piece, Anne looked back at Frederik. He was still standing in the shadows watching the conductor, yet she had no doubt she was within his line of vision. Why did he not come to her? Again, the thought occurred that she should go to him. But she hesitated. Should she approach him during the movement, which had just begun, or wait until a lull in the music? She would not wish to be rude and distract the sensitive musician from enjoying the performance. Yet, she viewed his position every few minutes, readying herself for an appropriate moment. With relief she perceived that he was drawing nearer to her. The piece concluded and applause ensued. In that moment, Anne thought Frederik was going to speak to her. To her left was an empty place, and she moved to create a vacant space beside her and wished with all her being that his attention might be drawn to the seat beside the aisle.

The next piece began, and though the music was just as intoxicating, she had no thought for it. Time was of the essence; would he never come close to her? She felt within her such reproach for her innocent discussions with M. de Chagny. She should have handled herself with more discretion; she did not wish for Frederik to misunderstand her situation. The thought pained her increasingly, but she pushed it aside. She only wished to communicate to him that she would perform the role; that was what was important now.

A shadow moved beside her, and Frederik was there. The refrain of the music was pianissimo, and she spoke to him.

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**Misty Breyer: At the Dalrymple's, I really thought the line about Elizabeth ignoring the nod of a gentleman was Darcy-ish. Oh, that Elliot pride! Lol**

**full0fgrace: Yes, she takes the good with the bad, and doesn't let it affect her as it would have once. But, she still loves Frederik and can't let that go. Do you think M. de Chagny is as despicable as Mr. William Walter Elliot, Esq.?**

**Ana-Misa: I think you know the answers to all of your questions now. Grins The **_**Siren's Song**_** is both maddeningly frustrating and delightful to Anne; a bit like Frederik… Thanks!**

**bluetinkerbell: Erik's music has always been everything to him. But then, that was how Anne felt about music until she met Erik.**


	62. Hope

Chapter 62 – Hope

"What a splendid evening! The music is enchanting, don't you think?"

The man standing a pace from her was silent, and Anne could see that his expression was brooding as he halted beside the empty seat. "It has been a disappointment to me. I expected a higher standard of performance from Carolus Fonta, and the soprano gave a sloppy interpretation."

Anne would have smiled at Frederik's critique of the singer, had she not sensed more behind his words. He was displeased, very displeased. She looked up, hoping to console him with some aspect of the piece, but the music was increasing in volume, and she dared not. If only he would take the place beside her!

When the composition came to a close, she found herself tense in every muscle, as though her mental efforts might keep him in his present position. For, she could tell by his manner that he was considering walking away. "Frederik, I received the call from the school regarding what you did for me. I would be pleased to sing the _Siren's Song_ – if… that is, if you still need me."

His face was an expressionless mask. A wind quintet was beginning. What was he thinking? Was he loath to have her now? Had he already found someone else? Oh, why wouldn't he speak!

"Of course," He spoke the syllables distinctly, but without feeling. "I will have my assistant contact you on Monday." He seemed confused, then added quickly, "Thank you for the favor." And, then he was bidding her adieu.

She had done it! She had accepted; she would sing the _Siren's Song_ for Frederik. Why didn't she feel elation? She watched as his figure retreated from the balcony. Why did she feel utterly miserable? Because he was leaving! Those few words in the Octagon room, so precious, were over. Nothing could bring them back again; his manner toward her had changed between the time of their conversation before the concert and now. She berated herself; she had acted so foolishly with Raoul. Did Frederik's distant manner truly stem from jealously? Oh, if only she could go to him and make amends. But, it was done and he was gone. No! He was not yet out of building; she could still go to him! She would tell him she was not interested in M. de Chagny. Yet, she felt pinioned to the seat. Was she so sure that Frederik Wentworth cared enough for her that she could make herself so vulnerable again? No. He had already proven to her that his love was not constant. He had learned to entertain thoughts of love for another in her very presence. She turned back to the music, and tried to drive thoughts of her indecision out of her mind. Yet, a small voice told her the truth: Louisa had never captured Frederik's heart, as she had seen from the first. Nor could she deny that here, nine years later, a part of Frederik had been touched. Still, something held her back. Why was she not free to tell him? Why couldn't she allow herself to hope again? For, verily, she did love him; she knew she loved him still! This strange behavior of her mind frustrated and puzzled her.

"What a vain, silly woman Fran Carlotta is!" exclaimed Walter Elliot in the limo returning to Camden Place.

"I didn't care for her," rejoined Elizabeth.

It was only when Anne settled into the Russell towncar that Valeria informed her of the affront the actress had made to the Great Elliot. She called him 'rather older and shorter than she had expected.' I doubt he will ever speak to her again." Valeria's tone was one of having been offended, so the woman beside her concealed her smile. Just as her father had charged Fran Carlotta of being vain, Elliot could certainly feel the ruffled effects of his own conceit when once it was put to trial.

"You looked lovely this evening, Anne," complimented Mrs. Russell, reaching to pull a strand of her black hair away from her eyes, arranging her hair for the second time that evening. "You know you actually have dimples again. I cannot comprehend how your stay with the Musgroves made such a drastic change in your appearance."

"Thank you," the younger woman replied. She did not look her friend in the eye, but turned to the window with a secretive smile playing about her lips. She believed that she could ascribe the reason for her blossoming health to one person's presence alone.

Valeria seemed intent on thoughts closely related to her goddaughter's. "I noticed you were not in our company during the second half of the performance. Where did you go?" There was something in the woman's attitude that told Anne the inquisitor already knew the answer.

"I was seated in the balcony. I went there to speak with Frederik Wentworth."

Valeria was silent, and seemed to be choosing her words. "Did you seek him out regarding the role for his musical?"

"Yes."

Anne noted how the brow of the woman beside her relaxed. No longer was there a look of consternation as she asserted, "I see, and now he must look elsewhere for someone who will perform the song."

"No, Leri. I accepted the role."

Valeria's mouth dropped open in dismay. "But – but, you told me-,"

"Yes, I know what I told you, but my words to you were precipitant."

"Anne," Valeria began with a disappointed tone, "I don't know what to say. What do you mean by accepting his offer? Especially in light of your attachment to Raoul."

She looked away, frustrated, and answered, "I do not see that there is any connection between my decision to perform in the theatrical and my cousin, Raoul."

Valeria was not dissuaded and continued reproachfully, "You should have seen him after your disappearance at intermission. It was very rude of you, my dear. Elizabeth claimed his attentions, though I assure you, his expression bespoke how little he was entertained."

Anne laughed nervously and responded, "I have never seen M. de Chagny pose any other expression but that of the utmost interest in the company of any member of my family. He is always so obliging-,"

Valeria interrupted her. "So, you will allow your sister to keep you from making a very eligible, agreeable, and profitable marriage? Is that what you're about?"

Anne was flabbergasted. While she knew that Valeria Russell harbored hopes of Raoul becoming enamored with her, she had never guessed that her godmother's presumptions had been thought out to such a degree. The two women were silent for many minutes before Valeria pressed for a response. "Well, Anne?"

"No. I will not allow Elizabeth, or anyone, to deter me from entertaining the attentions of a man of my choosing."

Again, the silence was thick in the Russell car. "Anne, what do you think of the vicomte?"

Anne sighed. "Honestly, I can not say. There are points about him that confuse me; when I am around him, I am not certain what to think."

Valeria smiled now. "I know exactly what you mean. But, you must perceive that he is everything a gentleman should be."

"Perhaps that is so. I believe I would wish to know more of him before I make any judgment on his character."

"Of course. I think that is a wise decision and you should make every effort to pursue such a course." The older woman left off her advice-giving, and did not inconvenience Anne further. While both women wished each other a cordial goodnight outside Anne's residence, they clearly felt the emotional partition which separated them now. Anne had known of its development for some time, but now her godmother was aware of its presence.

"I heard you signed the contract after all, you coy thing," stated Gina over the phone almost a week later. "But, I understand you are not rehearsing at the theater. You are completely missing the ship's progression; when will you come by?"

"I'm practicing at the school; it's much easier, especially since my classes have started. I am teaching a three-hour Methods in Voice on Mondays, and some instruction for Advanced Performing."

"I hope you will be able to keep that schedule when the show opens."

Anne replied, "I am only performing one song; I think I can handle it."

"But, there is more to it than that; you know this! Once you start attending rehearsals and begin the preparations before each performance – Oh, I do hope you've been in the habit of exercising and resting properly. Anne, I think you've forgotten how drained this work will leave you," Gina said worriedly.

"Well, money is an issue for me."

Gina sighed, "Don't I know! If I'd forgotten why I left New York, I'm recalling the reasons now. Speaking of living expenses, I was wondering: do you already have a roommate this fall? After the musical opens, I intend to find a residence I can afford a little better for a month or two. You wouldn't mind me…"

"No! That would be wonderful, though I wish it would be for longer."

"I don't intend to stay; I need to return home soon. I'm hoping to audition for a fabulous troupe scouting in Seattle in the winter. They have openings for choreographers, not just dancers. I intend to put them under my scrutiny and perceive whether I will join them or no."

Anne replied, laughingly, "Yes, make sure they are worthy of you, dearest, and that their tours include a stop in New York every year."

"It will be much easier to be rooming with you again," Gina exclaimed, leaving Anne to keep up with her thought process. "I keep finding I've forgotten something in my flat, and then I have no one to remind me like you used to do. Tell me: when will you be meeting at the theater?"

"I was told it will not be necessary until the stage is fully functional."

"Yes, that will be early next week. The ship will be incredible!" the dancer exclaimed. "The fun will come when we begin the routines on it."

"But, there is only a little over two weeks to prepare. I can't understand how it will all be completed."

"Nor do I, but it will come together. In the meantime, we have been working madly on the combinations. I feel like my boys have been giving their all in practice – the ship's crewmen, I mean – I call them 'my boys'. I feel secure with Gabriel, who plays Cedric, Cora's ill-fated love interest. Only Carlotta and Meg have me worried. Fran has been away finishing a film; she only arrived a little over a week ago. I intend to see they dance their hearts out, though. I know Meg will be magnificent… Oh, why do you let me go on this way? I always end up talking my head off with you."

"Dearest, I have aught to do with your need to talk." Anne smiled as she spoke into the mouthpiece.

Gina laughed heartily. "You're right, you're right. I take it back. Well, my break is over, and to practice I must return. Kisses!"

Anne found it very appealing to hone her mastery of the _Siren's Song_ in one of the practice rooms at the school. She brought her floor mat, and began her preparation with a relaxation method she had used years ago. The familiarity of her old routine sparked a sense of excitement. She was really going to sing again! Within her she knew that the other performances she had participated in over the past years at Archibald had been given of necessity, and, though she had comported herself professionally, she had not truly performed from her heart. How long had it been since she had felt the hunger to sing? Her lips formed a soft smile as she sat cross-legged on her mat; emotionally she had become attached again after being introduced to the _Siren's Song_ at the Musgrove home. Having Frederik there had brought a part of her back to life that she had thought was lost forever. Or, was it the song itself? She had to admit, the score had a great hold over her. Something about it was _right_. It expressed her very essence in voice and emotive power; not the lyrics but the composition. Of all the songs she could sing, this would ever be her first choice.

Frederik had said it was his favorite completed composition to-date. The smile stayed on her lips. It was a nice thought: to know that he loved the song that captured her skill so perfectly.

She had given up thinking of Frederik after the night of the concert. After waking such hope within, a hope that seemed to declare to her that he was truly affected by what he had seen of her time with Raoul, her mind had ceased to contemplate it. She did not truly understand why or how, but to comprehend that such a feeling within was something her heart could not open the doors to easily. Furthermore, she welcomed the reprieve from such introspection. Her mind had other things to be busy sorting. The school year had begun; the week had been full of disorganization as students and teachers alike acclimated themselves to the year's commencement.

Anne breathed in, arranged herself to rest on her back, and gently closed her mind off from distraction. She allowed her head to vibrate with the low rumble that emanated from her throat. She carried the reverberation into her nose, eyes, and forehead. She allowed the hum to reach to each portion of her head, and worked to relax the muscles there. As her voice traveled up the scale distinctly, she directed her mind to a part of her body to focus on removing the tenseness from that area. By the time she reached her toes, her voice was dancing in the upper octaves. Her chest rose and fell faintly, and her voice wavered perceptibly as she dropped the pitch and closed her eyes to enjoy the few moments of quietness before she would stand and begin her vocal warm-up and practice session.

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**A/N: Has anyone else noticed Anne never goes running after Frederick at the concert in **_**Persuasion**_**? My Anne is not running after Frederik, either.**

**full0fgrace: Glad that chapter held a familiar line that satisfied an expectation of yours. If it is just my own indulgence that I would appease in writing out the intimate moments between Frederik and Anne, perhaps that is a reason I should not do so. Thank you for your thoughts on that.**

**Misty Breyer: Grins I wondered if that title would create excitement. A little more electricity. Hmm… that can be arranged.**

**bluetinkerbell: I felt deliciously thrilled about writing the Octagon room scene. I'm glad it was fun for you to read! The Dame didn't cause too much trouble.**

**Ana-Misa: "Idoso" means "aged." There are ancient clans in Brazil who consist of a few surviving members, and their customs and heritage will be lost with them. Carlotta is horribly fascinating to me! I really enjoy writing her. Yes, the phantom is in the wings. Thanks!**


	63. The Desire to Sing

**A/N: Over 200 reviews and I haven't celebrated it properly. Shame on me! Here's the first of a double update.**

Chapter 63 – The Desire to Sing

Anne entered the theater at 1 pm and found afternoon rehearsals already underway. It was her first formal introduction to the other cast members, and she walked into the house with a sense of curiosity and awe. The lights were fully shining around the auditorium. The massive deck of a ship was situated as though all of its hull were under the floor with a third of it protruding from the right into the seating of the theater. On the ship's deck were some sixteen or seventeen men, some clothed in t-shirts, while others had donned their shirts about their heads. Anne smiled, noting that they perceived themselves as the sailors they would portray.

Anne traversed one of the aisles and moved across to Gina who was situated between the rows of seats, standing to the left of the ship. The choreographer exclaimed, "We have our ship at last!" when Anne reached her.

"So I see," remarked Anne, intimidated by the largeness of the prop.

The actors on deck were discussing some detail amongst themselves, and Anne heard a man who wore a soldier's uniform coat loosely over his t-shirt and shorts respond, "Any lousy seaman would be labeled a 'labberneck',"

"Where's the historian?" another of the men directed into the room.

"He'll be here tomorrow," someone walking down the center aisle responded. She carried her cell phone, speaking into it in 'push-to-talk' mode.

"Has Christine Elliot arrived?" she asked, carrying the schedule in her hand.

"Christine Elliot?" a large-bellied man on the deck, who had chosen to don his shirt as a headdress, repeated.

"Everyone, this is Christine," Gina replied, motioning to her. She greeted the members of the production staff Gina introduced, along with the woman on the phone. Anne stepped onto the stage to introduce herself to those on the ship.

As she reached out to shake hands with the large, shirtless man, he remarked as he surveyed her, "Ah, you're the one Carlotta has it in for. You better sing at a distance, little girl, or she'll take you out quickly."

Anne gazed at him questioningly, but his attention was taken by Gina's instruction. "Jacob, you will begin from stern. The ropes will be set up later, so just do without today." The assistant asked Anne to follow her, and they exited from the left wing, quickly passing into a narrow hallway. Anne hurried to catch up with her guide's pace, almost knocking into Daroga, who came from an entryway ahead of her.

The assistant doubled back, "Oh, there you are. I thought you were -,"

"Christine," Daroga greeted her. He seemed unruffled compared to the bustling woman who had escorted her. Behind him followed the musical director, Mercier. After nodding to Anne, Daroga excused himself. Anne had already spoken Mercier two times previously to go over elements of her performance. As he led her toward the stage to a steep metal stairway, he questioned, "You are aware that you will remain out of view, correct?"

"Yes, I understand that."

"Good. You will be singing from the upstage catwalk."

Anne observed the technical platform high above dubiously. "Having the score sung from this location creates the feeling of a ghostly presence for the audience. Consider it your own personal stage." Anne watched the catwalk shudder under the weight of the stagehand moving across it. Mercier's tutorial was cut off by his ringing cell. He took his leave and did not return until Anne was given clearance to step onto the platform. In the meantime, she waited in the wings listening to the conversations of the actors on the ship. It was obvious that they were trying to acclimate themselves to the new humongous prop and remember their lines and cues. As Anne listened, the men became silent, and she heard Daroga's voice carry through the house. "Forget your lines for the moment. This is your ship. It has been your home for many months… and it's haunted." The performers grew silent as the director continued.

"You know she is here. You've felt her presence before," he continued quietly.

Anne viewed the area behind the proscenium. A chill traveled down her spine as Daroga continued. "She whispers words in your ear in the pitch black of night during your watch. There is something about her; she is there and you want to reach out to her. Yet, when the dawn returns, she is gone."

"Oh, I know she's here. She's not only on the ship; I've heard her in the dressing rooms, too," one of the men agreed.

"That's what I want to see. I want to see your reaction to her efforts to capture your attention. Captain, give your orders."

Anne smiled as she listened to the conviction in the Captain's voice, giving the command, and the bosun, who seconded him. The bosun was the man, Jacob, who had given her the mysterious warning that she should keep away from Carlotta. Admittedly, she felt loath to come upon the woman; her behavior at the concert had influenced Anne to believe that they would not get along well. Yet, Jacob's warning confounded her. She wondered what was meant by it.

"What are you doing, Isodore? Praying?" Gina called out to one of the men.

"I dropped something. I just need to find it."

"Can you find it later? You need to follow your cue."

"Here it is!"

"What did you just put in your pocket?" asked a crewmate beside him.

"Just a safety pin."

"You lost a safety pin?"

"Positions!" Gina called out.

"I used it to pin my neckerchief in _My Fair Lady_. It's my good luck charm."

"You'll have better luck if you concentrate on what you're doing," the choreographer retorted. Anne could tell Gina was feeling anxious that the rehearsal would go well with Daroga present.

"Captain, pick up from the point where Olgrat is ready to throw himself overboard," Daroga instructed with a complacent tone.

"Miss Elliot?" The stagehand was addressing her.

"Yes?"

"The catwalk is ready. You may try it out."

She took the shallow steps to the platform. The area was darkened, even with the lights over the house fully lit. She knew she would find it more difficult to maneuver in the dimmed theater during the show. She kept herself close to the railing. At the center, over the stage, she paused. "Is this where I am to be?" she called out to the stage manager, and saw Mercier returned.

"Christine, you will face the center of the stage. Your voice should project toward the front of the house." Anne positioned herself, and the musical director instructed, "You may sing the chorus for us once." Anne obeyed, familiarizing herself with the acoustics of the auditorium.

Her small audience clapped when she ended. "Thank you, Christine." Daroga called to her. Anne looked below her; she perceived that portions of the stage would be in view.

"Will there be anything happening while I am singing?" she addressed the musical director, as she carefully stepped down.

"Yes. There will be a piece performed by Marguerite Giry during the score." Anne nodded, beginning to understand that while she was singing the siren's part, Meg was dancing it.

After discussing her schedule with Mercier, and receiving his notes, Anne was guided backstage by the production assistant to a small apartment on the third floor. "This dressing room is yours, Miss Elliot."

"You may call me Anne - I mean, Christine," she expressed to the harassed-looking woman. When she had signed the contract, it had already been written out in her stage-name. She had found it unnerving to hear so many address her as 'Christine,' but was becoming used to hearing the name again. Entering the room, she asked, "Will I be sharing this with another artist?"

"No," the assistant answered. Anne was surprised to know that she merited her own room for such a small part. She had no opportunity to question it, though. At that moment Anne heard someone address the assistant over her phone, "Carlotta's here! Julie, where are you?"

"Excuse me." Julie rushed from the room, leaving Anne to inspect the small closet which would be her meditation area before each performance. She noted the dirt-encrusted, worn floor and the old, battered table situated in front of a mirror, decorated with discolorations around its edges which seemed to be seeping towards the center. She noted her own appearance in the glass and grinned. It was real; she was truly going to be performing at the Theatre Populaire. This was something she had not thought possible: that she would find the desire to sing hidden in the crevices of her heart, springing forth like a playful child filled with glee.

Anne found her way back to the hall leading toward the stage. In the corridor was Carlotta, who was voicing her disdain as Julie tried to calm the actress.

"Where is she?" Carlotta demanded angrily.

"Miss Carlotta…"

The lead actress's eyes met Anne's as she stood at the end of the hallway. "There you are," Carlotta addressed her, her lips pinched into a wry expression. "Christine Elliot, isn't it?"

She did not argue, though Frederik had introduced them by calling her 'Anne.' "Yes, we met at Fonta's concert," Anne reminded her, walking towards her with her hand outstretched.

A slow condescending smile spread across the diva actress's face as she recognized her; it plainly said, 'oh, this will be easy.' "Yes, I remember you." Carlotta's hands remained on her hips and she spoke each syllable deliberately, threateningly. "Baby, if you think for a moment that your name will be on the marquis outside, I assure you: you will rue the day you met Fran Carlotta."

Anne was taken aback but immediately tried to explain her position. "My name will not be on the marquis. I am only filling a small part as a favor-,"

"Who do you think you are fooling?" Carlotta interrupted her, still boring her eyes into Anne's black ones.

The singer only reacted with a confused expression, opening her mouth slightly to respond, when the actress continued. "I am the only Siren! I will not share the billing with anyone else. And you," she pressed her deep mulberry-painted fingernail into Anne's shoulder, "had better steer clear of _me_." With that Carlotta stormed down the hall; the assistant hurried after her.

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**followthestory: My 1****st**** and 200****th**** reviewer! That is a compliment indeed. Glad you still think this story is great.**

**Ana-Misa: Whoo hoo! I was going for the POTO feel. "His face was an expressionless mask" was a not-so-subtle hint in Chap 62. (But, you already caught the mood before 62 was posted!) I was frustrated with the vibes and lack of interaction between A and F the second time at the concert. It drove me crazy to write it, but, after I finished – completely dissatisfied, I'll add – I reread it and knew it was right. You know how Valeria feels now. You can probably guess how her father and sister will react to any event in Anne's life. "How can it affect them?" (A quote from Mr. Bennet.)**

**Misty Breyer: When posting Chapter 61, I considered keeping the entire conversation intact. I plan to consolidate chapters to make them longer (and less of them) after completing the story. It would be too confusing to do so now.**


	64. A Favor for Meg

**A/N: The second in the double update…**

Chapter 64 – A Favor for Meg

The recording of the orchestral music was playing as Anne entered the house with her two young charges, Cynthia and Teresa Durand. She sat down with them as Carlotta and Gabriel, the leads, continued their duet. She viewed the room and noticed many seated in the central section of the hall. She turned to perceive the reaction on eleven-year-old Teresa's face, as Carlotta, in the character of Cora, belted forth her anguish to her lover. Teresa Durand's eyes were wide with wonder, and her jaw was dropped in awe. Beside her, her older sister, Cynthia, had the same open-mouthed expression, though not as pronounced. The song ended, and it was time, as Anne knew, for the hero to kiss the heroine. Instead, Carlotta broke away stating, "There is no need to implement it in practice, and when you come toward me, don't you dare grab my arm in that fashion!" Gabriel's expression was one of both embarrassment and offense.

"Fran," Daroga addressed her, "how do you think Cora would feel if Cedric put his arm around her?"

Carlotta didn't respond, and the director spoke to both the artists. "The movements during the line 'my fate has been decided' are not truly decided. You both seem to be unsettled." Carlotta nodded to Daroga's words.

"I feel like I should be on the other side of him. Do you think that would work better?" the actress questioned.

"Let's try that."

Anne noticed Meg's silhouette a few rows away as she came quietly toward her and the little Durands. "Afternoon Anne, I didn't know you were scheduled to practice today."

"I'm not. I've brought my friends with me. We determined that we should make a special trip today instead of having our regular lessons."

The dancer greeted the girls and questioned, "I thought you taught college-aged?"

"I do."

"We are part of a special program," spoke up Theresa. "Miss Anne teaches us after school for fun."

"Ah, for fun!" Meg repeated, her eyes twinkling. "Well, I know Miss Anne is very fun." Anne smiled at her, and Meg lowered her voice to say, "My Maman is here."

"She isn't!"

"She is!" Meg pointed to her mother who was sitting close to the front of the stage with the woman Anne recognized as Nurse Rook beside her. "I am to rehearse today."

"Oh, this will be a treat then. We came on just the right day," Anne told the girls beside her. Yet, even fourteen-year-old Cynthia grew quite impatient waiting for Meg's time to dance. Before the ballerina was to take the stage, Anne approached with her pupils to speak with Sophie. She noticed that the ailing woman was much improved since she had seen her last, and the singer remarked on the fact of her looking well.

"Oh, I feel well! Though Rook says I should not overdo."

"Yes, I am hopeful that Meg will get her chance to dance soon so that she will be able to return to rest shortly," added the nurse.

Anne introduced her pupils whom she had been instructing for two weeks. The little Durands sat down in front of Sophie as Meg's music began. Anne thought of how proud Sophie must be of her child as she watched her fly through her combinations with grace. Her tenacity on the stage never ceased to amaze Anne. Again, the familiarity of such skill was brought back to her with force.

"Oh, my little Marguerite!" exclaimed Sophie as the dancer attempted a quick and difficult combination only to fall to the ground, a painful-looking spill.

Gina was on the stage immediately. "What has happened?"

"I'm okay," Meg was repeating, but she was holding her foot.

For a moment, the viewers were hushed as Gina aided Meg. "There was a safety pin left open and lying on the stage!" the choreographer shouted angrily.

"Is her foot all right?" questioned Sophie loudly with concern.

"I'm fine; it is only pricked. I just lost my balance when I came down on it."

"I think we should have someone scour this stage -," Gina began.

"Yes. Get Julie to see to that. In the meantime, we are behind schedule." Daroga spoke to the ballerina, "Meg, we will postpone your piece until Friday."

"Very well." Meg looked crestfallen as she stepped off the stage and came toward her mother.

"You must be careful, little Meg!" her mother directed, concern etched on her forehead.

"I couldn't help it, Maman." She sat down beside her mother and began to remove her footwear. "This means that I won't be able to spend Friday with you after all. In fact, I suppose I shall have to come on my own that night since Uncle Erik is away."

"Oh, no you won't! I have already specified that I won't have you going any place unaccompanied in this city. It is too dangerous."

Meg sighed at her mother's overprotective nature but did not argue. Rook, checking her watch, announced that it was time for Sophie to return home. "But, Maman, how can I be with you this weekend when you won't let me come unescorted?" asked the distraught girl as she clutched her mother's arm, helping her to her feet. "And my aunt and uncle will be away the entire weekend," she reminded her mother, looking triumphant. She knew her mother would have to give in; for, she would be least likely to allow her to stay in Edward's flat alone.

"I will take you home this weekend," offered Anne.

"Oh, my dear. But this will be your last free weekend for a long time," Sophia remarked. "You will not want to spend it dropping off Meg."

"Yes, that would be terrible. You should stay the weekend, too," decided Meg happily. Anne laughed and looked to Sophie, expecting the woman to discourage such a thought. Instead she found Sophie's eyes inquisitively searching her own.

"Would you be averse to staying with us Friday and Saturday night?" the woman asked as she leaned for support on the seats before her.

"That would be perfectly suitable to me, if I will not be in your way."

"Not at all. I felt that our visit was too short the last time. Yes, I would like it very much if you will come this weekend." Sophie's face was almost as radiant as her daughter's. They arranged the particulars and parted ways; Sophie for her much-needed rest and Anne to give her two pupils a tour.

On Friday night, Anne escorted Meg to Sophie's home. As the two of them entered, all was quiet. Rook had left for the evening, and Meg stated, "I guessed that Maman would already be in bed. I will have to be especially silent if I am to sleep with her."

"I'll sleep on the couch," offered Anne. "That way you may have the second room."

"Oh no! I suppose it is very childish of me, but I never sleep as well as I do when I am with Maman. It's a habit I got used to as a child, and I've never grown out of it." Meg sighed but did not seem apologetic. Anne, wishing her a good night, took to the second bedroom for her repose.

As she snuggled under the covers, she was astonished to find her mind wander to Frederik. She had hardly had a thought for him over the past week. Her mind had seemed to have hit an impasse; as though to dwell upon him would make her faculties unsteady during the hectic time she was undergoing. He had not contacted her since his abrupt leave-taking at the concert. She owned she hardly expected him to do so, but that presentiment, that she might mean something to him, that he might have been affected by her attentions to Raoul, were not as strong now. She stared into the pitch black of the room and listened, imagining she might hear Frederik's voice at Sophie's door again. What if he were to visit while she was with Sophie this time? Was there a possibility? She reproached herself for this sudden burst of hopefulness. It was pointless for her to delude herself in such a manner. She needed her rest; this was the last weekend before the preview week, which began on Friday. That night would be the most exhilarating and terrifying moment in many, many years for her. She would need all her energies to get through it. She smiled to herself in the darkness, glad that she had accepted the role, and grateful to Frederik for convincing her to take it; whether he was aware of his persuasion or not.

The next morning, Anne entered the kitchen to find Nurse Rook sitting at the table.

"Good morning," Rook greeted her cordially, inviting her to partake by offering her a choice of sustenance. Anne chose a raisin bagel with creamed butter and sat down beside the caregiver, who was perusing the gossip column of a magazine.

"I have to get in my weekly measure of lies and nonsense," Rook explained matter-of-factly, humming to herself as she turned the pages. She did not look up as she added, "I see you are in here, Miss Elliot. He's a handsome man: Raoul de Chagny. Quite handsome."

Anne agreed that he was, glancing over curiously. In the bottom corner of the page was a small photograph which shocked her senses. The picture, taken at Fonta's concert, depicted Anne smiling at something Raoul was leaning in to say. The caption beneath read:

_Is the mourning period over for stunning French widower, de Chagny? If rumors are correct, he takes comfort in the company of Anne Elliot, daughter of the Great Elliot, seen at Fonta's concert this past weekend._

"Oh, what will they think of next," she sighed, aware that Rook was watching her as she returned to her breakfast. Yet, Anne was agitated by the magazine's falsity. After her conversation with Valeria on the drive home from the concert, she had become more sensitive to the idea that she and Raoul might be misconstrued as an item. Rook's reaction displeased her; others might draw the wrong conclusion as well. Two or three minutes passed, and the nurse popped up out of her seat. "Ah, Sophie is awake; I see Meg coming out of the bedroom."

After Anne finished her breakfast, she wandered toward Sophie's door. "There you are!" Sophie announced. "Again, I must thank you for the favor of seeing Meg safely here."

"You're welcome. I am glad to have had another opportunity to be of service."

"Yes, I believe you are," the ailing woman responded, looking at her thoughtfully. "Rook was just telling me about your love interest."

Anne forced a laugh and answered lightly, "Oh, yes. Raoul. We were just discussing how handsome he is."

"Very, very handsome. A regular Adonis. Tell me: do you know much of him; his background, I mean?" She perceived that there was something more serious behind the lighthearted tone Sophie was sporting.

"I know that he is the step-son of the late William Elliot, my father's brother," Anne replied somewhat defensively. She wondered at Sophie's interest in him.

"Oh, I am afraid I have offended you. Please, Anne, do not think that I wish to intrude into your business. I merely thought that the blurb in the tabloid was pure rumor. I did not know-,"

"Oh, no! It is completely unfounded, I assure you."

"You do not need to deny him to me. I hope you will be happy; I hope you know that that is all I have ever desired for you, Anne." A puzzled expression flitted over Anne's features. What did she mean by the words "all I have ever desired for you?" She did not dwell on it, but decided to refute the implication that she had any relationship other than a family connection with Raoul.

"Really, Raoul and I are not involved in any way. I have no interest in him-," she blushed and stopped short. For, suddenly she became aware that the person to whom she spoke was the very sister of the one she truly did admire in comparison to the merits of M. de Chagny. "No, no…" she repeated shyly. "There is nothing between us."

"Well, judging from this picture taken at the concert, and the present color of her face, I think her words do not ring true," expressed Rook to her patient.

Sophie's smile was slightly overdone, as she nodded in agreement. "Yes, Anne, are you sure your thoughts were the same at the concert as they seem to be today? From this shot, I gather you felt pleased that night to be conversing with a certain man, to be expressing your views and hearing his own." Her voice was full of teasing, and her words, the very truth, though spoken with another in mind, brought a deeper flush to Anne's cheeks. These were exactly the feelings and actions she had participated in with Frederik, not Raoul.

"No, no. That is not how it was!" she exclaimed, flustered.

Nurse Rook leaned back on her heels and quoted, "The lady doth protest too much, me thinks!"

Anne laughed and felt frustrated at the same time.

"I am happy for you, then, Anne. I am sure he will not fail to see that you are an inestimable woman whose heart is well worth the effort of attaining. Shall you live in France, then?"

"No, no please." Anne was trying to stop laughing. The idea was so funny to her. Yet, she was discomfited by the thoughts of Frederik that played across her mind; each word Sophie spoke of Raoul could so easily fit him instead. It took some effort for her to reassert, "Now please. You must believe me when I tell you I have no interest at all in my cousin. I can not tell you why, but it is so." The serious expression that now appeared on her face convinced her listeners that she was in earnest at last.

Rook folded her hands across her middle and looked contentedly at Anne, then to Sophie in silent communication. It was then that Anne sensed some earlier speech between them. "What? What is it?"

"It is nothing."

"No, tell me. You know something. Is it about Raoul?"

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**A/N: The little Durands are from a description given by Mrs. Smith: "with their mouths open to catch the music." Nurse Rook quotes a popular line from Shakespeare's **_**Hamlet**_

**Misty Breyer: Glad you enjoyed chapter 62. When I spoke of electricity, I was referring to chapters ahead.**

**Nonny: We don't have as much appreciation or respect for a live performance or familial duty/consideration in this era. I thought it was rude for my Anne, as well. I felt, if she hadn't given up her seat, it would have been imperative that she return. As it was, her decision to look for Erik had a two-fold motivation: 1) to create the Phantom-esque mood, which we are now delving into, and 2) to be the turning point of Anne's desire to hope and act on that hope. I gather from your review that you felt this, too. Wow, you gave excellent points to consider regarding J.A.'s Anne. I did not think it through and should have. Thanks!**

**bluetinkerbell: (blushing) Thank you. This is practice, hence the term, "scribbling." In answer to your question: Yes, I have one piece under the same pen name; experimental, as well.**

**Pocket Pixie: Your review delighted me! And, I certainly hope you won't be disappointed. I intend to continue weekly updates until the story is completed. Thanks so much.**


	65. Tangible Proof

Chapter 65 – Tangible Proof

Sophie shook her head. "He is a relative. I'm sure your relationship with him is none of my concern, and I should not have intruded on your private life."

"I think you should tell her, Sophie."

"Shh! Shh," the woman reacted to Rook's advice.

"Yes, be convinced that there is nothing between Raoul and myself, and do tell me," Anne cajoled.

"Oh," groaned Sophie. "You will know soon enough if he stays in town, I'm sure."

She waited, but Frederik's sister did not continue. Anne smiled and coaxed, "You must tell me now. You have piqued my curiosity cruelly otherwise."

Sophie sighed and did not seem pleased. "Very well. Rook, would you bring me Frederik's file?" While Rook left the room, Sophie patted the bed. "You must promise, Anne, that you won't be angry with me for what I tell you."

"Why should I be angry?"

Sophie looked anxiously at her as Rook returned with the folder. The woman leaning against the pillows placed her hands over the closed file in her lap. "First, I must ask you: do you think it at all strange that your cousin has taken such an interest in keeping company with your family, and then disappearing for lengths of time only to return again, behaving as though he has not been absent at all?"

Anne's mouth dropped open. "How do you know this?"

Sophie leaned forward slightly, gazed intently into Anne's eyes, and stated, "Because I know the reason behind it!"

Anne looked down at the folder as though it might open of its own accord and explain all as Sophie began. "I understand you were in St. Augustine during Frederik's stay in that city."

"Yes…"

"He made a very unwise business transaction while he was there, though no one could truly blame him…"

Sophie trailed off, and Anne tried to prompt her by saying, "Do you mean his purchase of the cottage where he had lived with his parents?"

The eyes of the woman in the bed lit up, and she exclaimed, "Yes! You knew of it, then. He paid a great sum to own that small property; only he never actually owned it." To Anne's inquiring gaze, she added, "Oh, he thought he did, but there was what Raoul later termed 'an honest mistake'." Anne's eyes were wide as Sophie told her, "It was when he came to me in France that he set out one afternoon to register the title and was informed of the true state of de Chagny's claim; the property Raoul sold Frederik was not his to sell. There continues to be some discrepancy about who is the rightful heir of the entire de Chagny estate and lands." Sophie waved away her words denoting their insignificance as she added, "It seems Raoul's father had an older son, a half-brother who resides in the UK. If Raoul had not tried to sell, it would not have brought the inheritance issue under scrutiny. Furthermore, there are stipulations on the property preventing it from being divided, as Raoul was trying to do."

Sophie had Anne's complete attention now, as her tone took a sarcastic twist. "Of course, M. de Chagny vows he had no knowledge of this, and because of his title, which his mother went through the trouble of securing for him, he still claims that he is the sole heir. So, Frederik has neither the land nor his money because Raoul, it seems, claims no longer to be in possession of the funds. So, my brother is awaiting the decision of who has the ownership to decide how to act. And, since de Chagny has signed documents agreeing that, if the property is his, the land will be transferred into Frederik's name, it is more important to my brother to own the cottage than have his money returned."

"But it still doesn't clear up the problem of the division of the land," pointed out Nurse Rook.

"That is true, but due to the claim made by both the brothers, it is possible that the land will be divided anyway. Or that the judge might rule in de Chagny's favor and allow the cottage to be sold, not being part of the estate, keeping the principal portion where the historical chateau resides, intact. And this is why Frederik is willing to wait out the decision, though the issue of the money owed by that man has given him much unrest."

"I see. I know it meant much to him to have that childhood home," Anne mused. Then she added, "But I'm sure Raoul had no intentions of misleading Erik," completely unaware of the name by which she had called Sophie's brother.

A thoughtful expression could be glimpsed on Sophie's countenance as she perused Anne's. She lifted her hands from the file on her lap and said, shaking her head, "I would have wished to believe the same but for some recent information my dear Rook has procured."

Anne glanced up at the nurse who nodded, her lips pursed. "Why, what do you know of Raoul?" she asked Rook.

Sophie was lifting a sheet of paper out of the folder as Rook explained, "My niece, Nancy, happens to be a nanny for newborns. Perhaps you have heard of Mr. de Chagny's friend, Wallis? He and his wife just had a child, and they hired my Nancy to assist them in the care of their tiny daughter for the first few weeks. She worked there long enough to become great friends with the wife, and during those few weeks, she heard earfuls about Raoul's behavior to Mr. Wallis. He was asking for another loan and pressing them unmercifully. Imagine having a new child, and your husband's friend constantly pestering you for money!" Nurse Rook huffed.

Anne's back stiffened. She could hardly believe this account of Raoul. "I do beg of your pardon, but I have never witnessed my cousin asking anyone for money. In fact, he was in the process of purchasing a concert hall -,"

"Oh, we know about that, as well!" interrupted Sophie. "The funds he showed to be in his account when his records were being checked were the very funds Frederik had paid to him for the property in France. You see, he did not transfer the deed into my brother's name until the loan institution had made their investigation. It was a ruse to show he had more assets than he really had! Of course, Frederik sought him out immediately when he returned here, and Raoul made light of it. He said that the funds Frederik had paid him would be returned forthwith, and they never were. It was then that Raoul suddenly became difficult to contact, and Frederik had to take more drastic action. At one time, he even thought Raoul was out of the country trying to handle matters, but he wasn't. And this is why he has been missing from your own company, you see. He could not risk being found and summoned to take responsibility."

"There is nowhere better to stay so well concealed," added Rook, speaking of Raoul's length of stay in New York City.

Anne was shaking her head in denial, though there was a little voice within reminding her of the day at Milsom Plaza when she had seen the displeasure on Raoul's face as she had entered the cab. His softened portrayal of his past life came promptly to memory, creating doubts as well.

"Here. I would not show you this, because he mentions your family, but this is tangible proof of his deception." Sophie handed Anne the sheet of paper, and she read the heading.

It was a printed-out email with the subject line, "Fwd: To Wallis, Thanks." It was from lionelwallis to nancyp, and began:

_Nancy,_

_I am so sorry if your friend has been deceived by de Chagny. He and my husband have been the best of friends for many years, a great cause of heartache to me, as you well know. Still, Wallis is such a loyal, sincere man he has found it difficult to retract the hand of friendship. I hope the correspondence below will help you understand the true deficiencies of the vicomte's mind and virtues._

_Truly your friend,_

_Victoria_

_Email dated: June 20th… _

_Wallis,_

_I am ever in your debt for your assistance two weeks ago. I have every intention of paying you back. I am investing it wisely, as you have advised. There is a small concert hall for sale which will be just the thing to get me on my feet again. Of course, once the contract is signed, I will have to come up with the money to pay for it. But do not think that I will need to turn to you. I find that I am fortunate in having family members newly arrived to the city. My uncle, Walter Elliot, the violinist, has come to live in Manhattan and has moved himself into Camden Place. I'm sure I will have no trouble convincing him to aid me in purchasing the hall, once I am reacquainted with him. You might recall how I spoke of his being a bit of an idiot when I visited him years before. I have no doubt he is still the same, though in my present circumstances I find it best to look on his good points._

_Of course, all of this would be much easier if I could sell my father's land, but that is such a tangled web that I'm sure to lose my claim altogether if I tried to get it sorted out. Still, I would jump at the chance to be rid of it if I could find a profitable means._

_I hope you will allow me to treat you to dinner and cards on Saturday week. I'll call you as the time is nearer. Thanks again._

_R. de Chagny_

Anne dropped the email into her lap and could not meet the eyes of the two women in the room. Her flush of embarrassment had progressed to that of anger. What a scoundrel the charming vicomte was! His tongue was the tongue of a serpent! And now it made sense why he had been so agreeable and ready to overlook her father's snobbery. He had been preparing to ask Walter Elliot for money! It was all so revolting! He was revolting! How would she ever be able to look him unaffectedly in the eye again?

"You see how this proves Raoul attempted to make the deal with Frederik knowing the outcome full well."

"Yes. It is very fortunate that your brother visited you in France when he did," Anne expressed, still unable to lift her eyes to Sophie's.

Meg entered the room and the three women turned to view her. She was in a bathrobe and drying her wet hair with a towel. "What did I miss?" she asked.

"It's none of your business, little Meg," answered her mother firmly as she lifted the paper from Anne's lap and placed it back into its folder.

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**Misty Breyer: Yes, definitely getting more POTO, but the Austen aspects are still there. I hope I have blended them well. This portion of the story – Sophie telling Anne about Raoul – was one of the toughest parts of the plot for me to reconcile. It was also one of the first ideas that popped into my head (the structure, not the detail) and convinced me to start scribbling this out. So, it is a happy moment, making it this far!**

**Ana-Misa: (ch 62) There you are, my priceless reviewer! How elated I felt when I saw "Ana-Misa." Made my day… Yes, you knew exactly how it was for me while writing the concert balcony scene. How do you do that? (Shaking head in amazement.) **_**The Blue Castle**_** is pure romantic delight, isn't it? I never thought how it might have influenced this piece, but now I see it. Yes, I included Anne's practice because it was important for the reader to embrace Anne's professional side, preparing for the next "stage" of the story. (heh, heh) (ch 63) There will not be many rehearsal scenes, mainly because it would lengthen the story considerably; just enough to give a taste and keep to the storyline. I am astonished at how many performers believe spirits haunt the productions! I have not seen a live ALW performance. (I watched the recent movie through for the first time last week.) "Launch" into nautical wordplay anytime! No and then yes to the first question. The announcement of Anne's participation will be implied, in keeping with the manner in which her family receives the news.**


	66. A Siren or a Harpy?

Chapter 66 - A Siren or a Harpy?

Anne returned to the city prepared for the difficult week before her. On Monday, the orchestra was practicing in the pit, and on Wednesday, Anne, peeking out once from the wings, noticed Frederik speaking with the musical supervisor. Meg had mentioned his return from France to her that day but the sight of him still sent a shock to her senses, as though a sleeping entity inside her was awakened by his presence. Again the thought plagued her: why had she not thought on him more? As she made her way to her dressing room, consciously aware of the people speeding back and forth within the narrow access ways, she thought about her feelings for Frederik. She knew she loved him, but there was a difference in her understanding of love now. Just months ago his mere presence would have reduced her to a crumbling shambles of emotional unrest. Now, she realized that though she ached for that dream of being reconciled to him again, it did not alter the person that she was. Though her heart would always beat a peculiar rhythm reserved only for when she caught the sound of his voice and her eyes would follow every mannerism, knowing each movement of his as though it were her own, she was not dependent on him to give her purpose. She knew herself and would never again misplace on another fellow human her innate reason for being.

She glimpsed Meg and halted her steps. Meg was examining her wounded foot.

"Is it troubling you?" Anne asked as she entered.

"It is sorer than I expected it to be. It was such a tiny pinprick that I've neglected to treat it seriously."

"Oh, good; you are both here. It is almost time for your entrances," Julie addressed the two artists.

Anne climbed the steps to the catwalk. The lights were just enough to aid her ascent. She took her cue readily and sang well, but the general mood of the theater – to go through the motions and see that it would all run smoothly – kept her from putting too much into the performance. She watched Meg below her, more worried about the pain troubling the dancer than enjoying the skill of the lithe girl.

The technician was redirecting the lighting as the song ended, and Anne noted that this would occur after each time she sang. She retraced her steps along the platform to begin her descent, but could not distinguish the stairway beneath her, pausing upon the top step.

"Miss Elliot," called the voice of a stagehand. She heard the metallic clang of someone on the steps below her. "I am to help you down."

Once she reached the bottom, she gratefully thanked him. Instead of returning a polite response to her gratitude, the young man replied shortly, "It's orders." Immediately the man hurried off in another direction, as though she had been keeping him from some other task.

That night Gina went home with Anne. Her friend had already moved most of her possessions into the apartment but had not accompanied her home before. They spoke a great deal on the subway journey, enjoying the novelty of having so much in common, so that the trip was made much shorter. Gina prepared a late dinner for them, giving Anne the pleasant task of cutting the broccoli, carrots, and tart apples.

"Did you see Meg's foot today?" Anne asked her, suddenly reminded of her conversation with the ballerina.

"No. Is she not taking care of it?"

"It looks redder than it should."

Gina sighed and said, "I shall have to mix up my famous foot soak. It is a secret family recipe. I will send it with you tomorrow, since I can not be there."

"What could possibly keep you from being at the theater the day before the first preview of the show?"

Gina didn't respond, and a hundred horrible reasons fleeted through Anne's mind. "Gina, are you not well?"

"Oh, I'm splendid. It is not because of an ailment that I must be absent. The producers have me working on something – well, with someone… Mmmm. Perhaps I've said too much." When Anne did not respond, Gina could not help herself but to continue with the subject anyway.

"You are not one to go about saying things: Carlotta is threatening to quit, and I am working with a backup for the role of Cora."

"You mean her alternate."

"No. The producers are adamant that there has to be a name to fill the shoes of our dear Feisty Fran." Anne smiled at Gina's nickname for Carlotta.

Gina looked compassionately on her friend, "She hasn't been the easiest person to work with for you, eh?"

Anne shrugged. "I try my best to keep out of her way."

"I can't believe she's made all of this fuss because of you."

"Because of me? What _have_ I done to offend her?"

"Do not blame yourself; in the original contract Carlotta signed, it stipulated that there would be no other person employed by the producers to sing the Siren's part. You see, in the productions overseas, the one who sang the _Siren's Song_ was given billing along with the principles." Gina stirred the contents of the pan on the stove. "I learned all of this from Frederik and Daroga when we discussed how to approach you regarding the part." Gina paused and lifted a spoon to her mouth to blow on its contents. "Taste this and tell me if it is right."

Anne obeyed, commented that it was superb, as Gina's dishes always were, and waited for her to continue. "So, Carlotta is demanding that the producers uphold their part of the bargain, and since it is Frederik who employs you and has a separate agreement with them, she can not bully them to get her way. At present I understand that Carlotta has only promised to perform through opening week, and after that she may or she may not decide to stay on. Which leaves management in no little discomfort; for a week is hardly enough for a big-name star to really make an impact. So, that is why they have made an agreement with Laura Carteret, and I am to prepare her clandestinely for the role."

The next morning before breakfast Anne checked her financial statement online. She had been told when her first paycheck would be deposited, a convenience which had been set up for her when she had signed the contract. Though Gina had paid a portion of the rent, Anne was still lacking in funds. She found the entry, and her throat dropped to her stomach. Something terribly wrong must have occurred. It was far too much money; at least three times what it should have been.

"Gina?" Anne tapped on her door. "Are you awake yet?"

"If I had not been, it wouldn't matter now, would it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Gina opened the door and looked at Anne sleepily. "What's wrong, dear?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering… Do you have a direct number for Frederik Wentworth's assistant?"

"Um…let me see. I have an email address for Frederik. I sent him information regarding Archibald once. Yes, here it is."

Anne looked down at the address: _WentworthOG_

_Subject: Earnings for the Siren's Song_

_I have recently checked my account to find that a mistake must have occurred in the amount of the deposit. I have calculated that, according to membership guidelines, I should be entitled to less than a third of the funds I have received. If you would be kind enough to send information, I will make arrangements for the surplus to be credited back to your account._

_C. E._

Later that morning, Anne entered the building with a container of Gina's foot therapy for Meg. The guard at the door would not let her pass.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you are not allowed to carry unlabeled contents into the theater."

"But this is for a dancer to treat her foot."

"No, miss. You must have authorization." Anne was forced to leave the mixture behind.

The rush and anticipation was a tangible presence within the theater now. The pressure of the first night on the morrow was a pressing weight upon them all. Meg's foot did not seem to be worse, and she averred that she had treated it the night before. Meg's pale gray-amethyst costume hung in her room, and Anne watched as others passed the door, awaiting one last fitting. Within the halls there was a hush and a constant noise simultaneously filling the areas behind the stage. In the gathering room, the nervous state of the cast and crew was evident; witty jesting was the foremost way of expressing it, except when Carlotta entered the room. While the tense performers tried to maintain a carefree attitude, the lead actress created discomfort in the hearts of her fellow-actors by smothering them with subtle criticisms.

Anne watched the beginning scenes and saw the smoke billowing around the deck of the ship, the lights on it creating a blue mist which resembled water. Carlotta was smiling, making a physical effort not to snap at her fellow cast-members on stage. In the audience sat the producers, Richard Firmin and Monty Charmin, who were there to take in the rehearsal. The run-through seemed to go smoothly until Gabriel tried to walk from the stage and tripped. The crewmen onboard the vessel began to snicker.

Gabriel held up his hand. "It's all right. I've just been safety-pinned." It had become a general joke since the lucky safety-pin of the crewman, Isodore, had gone missing. Each of the men had taken to pinning another's apparel in some manner; a feat that had to be accomplished during the scene. Some walked off with sleeves attached to the torsos of their shirts or the headdress of one man attached to the headdress of the one beside him.

In this instance, the captain's breeches leg had been attached to a large rope over which the man had tripped. "That was by far one of my best," boasted the bosun to another crewmember as they returned backstage.

"You know who would be the pièce de résistance, Jacob?" opined the crewman. "Carlotta!"

"It would waste my time," answered Jacob.

"What? You're not brave enough to try Carlotta?" dared his compatriot.

"It's not that I wouldn't like to see a trick played on her, the harpy. But I think I can do a bit better."

"Really, Jacob. You astound me," spoke Gabriel, standing away from his fellow actor as a seamstress stitched up the hole in his costume leg. "I should think you'd know by now that Carlotta is portraying a siren, not a harpy."

"I don't care what she's portraying; I know what she is…" Jacob continued, walking away from Anne's location. From lower stage right came the pleading strains of the actress' voice in her solo. She could not hit the higher notes with great accuracy, so she made up for it in volume.

When it was time for Meg to take the stage and Anne to take to the catwalk, the lights were dimmed even more and the clouds of mist were gray like the clouds of a thunderstorm. Here and there about the platform, where Meg was to dance, were props fashioned as rocks and boulders protruding from the sea of fog. Anne, having taken the previous twenty minutes in her dressing room to calm her nerves before going on, breathed in and delved into greater concentration as the music of the orchestra met her from the pit. The music soared around her and she lost the sense of her surroundings, but for the rail she grasped. The mood of the theater was more serious than it had been the day before, and it aided Anne in feeling the song. Her time to begin singing approached; Anne's eyes opened and she stared forward sightlessly, lost in the moment. She felt the movement of the music and sang the words but did not immerse herself into the meaning of them at first. Then it took hold of her; she was the siren now, and she was luring the captain of the ship to his doom. The last refrain of the song she sang mechanically, no longer able to let its sentiments touch her. It pained her far more than she had believed it could after sessions and sessions of practicing it. She held and sang the last notes as Frederik had instructed her to do. Her voice was completely capable throughout, but her heart was concealed. No one who heard the singer would think anything amiss; no one but one who truly knew Christine Elliot and the purity that intertwined her song when her soul was awakened to allow such a blissful quality.

For three minutes the orchestra continued to play as Meg danced, but Anne did not look down; she was still reeling from the hurt imprisoned within her. As the music ended, there was applause from the small audience; the act was over and intermission had come. Meg was no longer on the stage below her, and it was only then that Anne realized she had missed all of Meg's performance. She looked down from the catwalk expecting to find the stagehand there to help her, but there was no one. It was too dark for her to find her footing easily. She reached out with her tiptoe to the next step, felt it beneath her, and put her weight onto it, the metal grating under the slight pressure.

"Those steps are a bit tricky, aren't they, Miss Elliot." The voice came out of the darkness with a malevolence that froze Anne's blood. She knew that female voice well, for she had listened to it repeating lines for weeks now. Anne did not speak, hesitating between the two steps, wondering what Carlotta might do. Carlotta had so much as told the producers it was Anne or she. Did this vicious woman actually intend to cause her to come to harm?

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**Misty Breyer: Glad these updates make you happy. Your reviews do the same for me. Now that you know Raoul's true nature, does it change your feelings about the story? Expect a little electricity… in the next chapter.**

**bluetinkerbell: Yeah, I expressly tried to give the feeling that Erik might show up. (Evil grin.) It adds to the tension so nicely. (Psst! Regarding new scribblings, check my profile page.)**

**Nonny: Did the Sophie/Rook scene go over well with you? I tried to keep it in line with Wm Elliot's nature and doings. (In **_**Persuasion**_** Mr. Elliot doesn't come through for Mrs. Smith. In this, he is dragging his feet and hiding from his responsibilities regarding the property in France with Frederik.) Your analysis of Anne's character was wonderful! I have put my analyses for three of my favorite **_**Persuasion**_** characters on one of the forums, **_**The Jane Austen Writing Society**_**. I don't intend to repeat the lyrics or the details of the song (ch 16), but I will go into the context - and dormant feelings, of course.**

**Martissa: Honestly, I feel so touched. Thanks for giving my little fanfic such high praise.**

**Ana-Misa: You were on the right track about the safety pin; this chapter gave the explanation. I'm grinning because you caught the line about Frederik's persuasion. Thank you, jewel of a reviewer!**


	67. An Ironic Twist of Happenstance

**A/N: I'm posting early. Happy Thanksgiving! Give thanks to Him who gives all good things with loving kindness.**

Chapter 67 – An Ironic Twist of Happenstance

"You know the actors' saying for good luck, don't you, Miss Elliot?" Anne, motionless upon the step, did not respond.

"You'd better speak, you impudent cat, or I'll-,"

"You'll what, Carlotta?" Both relief and exultation surged through Anne at the sound of Frederik's voice.

"Frederik!" Carlotta paused before asking, "Did you hear what she said to me?"

"I heard everything, and I think your harassment of the singer I have employed might be cause to seek legal action against you." The lead actress scoffed. Frederik ignored her and continued, "But I am sure Miss Elliot has a very forgiving spirit and will overlook your idle threats when you apologize."

"I never apologize to anyone," Carlotta spat, and Anne watched her silhouette exit the stage.

Frederik was taking the stairs now. "Give me your hand," he directed. Anne did so immediately. As he gently led her down, she now feared she would slip due to the shakiness of her knees. His touch was enough to melt her, but that he had stood up for her - Protected her! - from what evil intent Carlotta had conceived. He was there, standing before her, as her foot touched the floor.

"What I said was true, wasn't it?" he asked her softly.

"What?" she whispered, not understanding to what he alluded.

"You have a very forgiving spirit, do you not?"

Immediately Anne's mind raced back to the song, the words and their mockery. Was he asking her if she could forgive him for flaunting her sentiments; knowing that her voice was meant to sing it? "Erik-," her breath caught in her throat as she spoke. She suddenly felt safe in the darkness because he could not see the tears filling her eyes. "Why?" she whispered. "Why did you use my words?"

"Your words?" Did he not understand what she was asking? Had it been so long that he had forgotten where "come to me" had originated? A flame of anger burned within her.

"The words, 'come to me', Erik. You used the words from my letter. Why?"

"Mr. Wentworth! Is Mr. Wentworth backstage?" It was Julie's voice that brought Anne back to herself.

Frederik touched her shoulder, "You don't understand-,"

"He was near the catwalk," Carlotta was answering in the hallway and the footsteps were coming closer.

"Forgive me; I will only be a minute," Frederik said hurriedly and left her side to meet the assistant. "I'm here. What is it?" His voice held a modicum of impatience.

"There is a gentleman asking to speak with you. His name is Philip de-something, and he says it is urgent." The voices faded away from her, and she waited, uncertain what she should do. She waited until it was impossible to stay any longer, but he did not return. A sob escaped her and she turned and fled quickly to her dressing room. If only he had explained himself. What didn't she understand? Could what he had to say truly make any difference? Would that she could tell him, "It does not matter. I do! I do forgive you!" But, she had no hope of this. She did understand; she knew he had publicly insulted her by using her words in the song. She sat in her dressing room, drying the tears from her eyes; her reflection blurred in the mirror. A small tap came upon the door. Could it be Erik? Had he come to speak to her at last?

"Come in," she welcomed hopefully.

Meg's little figure came through the doorway. She closed the door behind her. Her face was flushed and she was out of breath. "Anne, I need the hugest favor." Her expression was one of dire seriousness.

"What is wrong? Do you need to go home and soak your foot? I meant to bring you Gina's treatment, but-,"

"No. I need you to take me to Maman's tonight. Uncle Erik must leave immediately, and he cannot escort me. Can you?"

"Of course, but why are you going to your mother's?" Anne asked, oblivious of the pitiable display her tear-stained countenance made as she did so.

"It is matter of some delicacy. It is not Maman's health," Meg explained quickly. "She is well. But will you come?"

"Of course," responded the selfless soprano.

They left the theater for Sophie's residence immediately after the rehearsal was over and Daroga's notes were given. Anne found her fellow-traveler strangely quiet the entire way. Twice she tried to ask her what was bothering the girl, and twice Meg's words had been cryptic: "I am just disturbed by something I overheard" and "I'm sure it will all be sorted out when we get to Maman's."

They entered the home, and Anne was again surprised when Meg hastened to her mother's quarters, leaving her in the living room unattended. The nurse appeared at the door shortly thereafter, looked upon Anne, smiled, but said not a word. She reentered Sophie's bedroom with a tray and closed the door behind her. Anne felt she must have waited on the couch for three-quarters of an hour, worried and curious, but unable to relieve her feelings due to her position as a friend. At last, Meg's figure emerged from the room.

"Finally," she announced, "my uncle answered his phone!" Anne's response was a puzzled expression. "Come inside. Quickly," Meg coaxed.

The dancer grasped her arm, pulling her into the room. Sophie looked very tired and shaken. Her hair was untidy as though she had been awakened only moments before. Lying beside her on the bedcovers was a cell phone. Her hands were clasped and pressed against her lips, and she stared at the opposite wall in meditation.

"Hello again, Anne," she greeted her but did not pat the side of the bed.

"May I stay, Maman?"

"I do not think it considerate, little Meg." Sophie watched her daughter leave the room before turning to Anne, whose expression bespoke her confusion, as the door closed softly.

"You poor dear. Please forgive me for my rudeness. I did not expect you, you see. And…" Sophie paused, "I'm going to ask your forgiveness for something else. I beg you, hear me out." The older woman sighed as though her thoughts labored her mind. "You remember the first time you came to visit me here, we had a conversation about my past. I was trying to tell you this then, but was not permitted to continue."

"Yes, you needed your rest."

"No, I mean Frederik forbade me to tell you." She looked at Anne sympathetically, though the younger woman could not understand what prompted such a sentiment. "You see, he returned that night and we had a rather heated conversation…regarding you and a letter you had written to him." Realization seemed to dawn on Anne and her countenance took on a stoic vein. "No, my dear, it is not as you think. Please hear me out," Sophie pleaded.

"The letter you wrote to my brother, the one you handed to me at the end of your last year at the Academy… I never gave it to him." Sophie watched her face, ascertaining that she was having trouble comprehending the meaning of her words. "Forgive me, Anne; I threw it away." Sophie sighed again; this time, as though she was relieved of a great burden. "I've wanted to ask your forgiveness for that for years now. Years! But Frederik prevented me. That night he told me there was no point."

Anne was unable to react; her senses were dulled by this news. "I…I don't-,"

"No, listen. Tonight, Meg overheard you mention a letter to him. I presume it was a private conversation, but she was convinced that it was the same letter we had discussed that night-,"

"But how did Meg know that?"

Sophie's face held a wry expression. "She sleeps with me when she comes home, you know. She pretended to be asleep, and Frederik and I were so caught up in our discussion… I never thought that she might overhear. Again, can you forgive me?"

Anne pressed her lips together. There was a lump in her throat, but her anger kept it back.

"I tried to explain to you why I had done it. My experiences with my husband had convinced me that your relationship with my brother was unhealthy; he had such a hold over you and you were so young..."

He had never received her letter! He had never known of it until the night she had heard him tell Sophie:

"_Do not speak a word of this!"_

Anne bowed her head, resting her hand upon the bed in an attempt to steady herself. Sophie took the opportunity of clasping the hand in hers. "It was wrong of me. Very wrong. I am sorry for it."

"But, why? Why did he forbid you to tell me?" she asked, fearful of the answer.

"I suppose because he did not see how that might ever come up again between you. But it did. Meg tells me that there were words from his song that had something to do with the letter – I assure you, Anne, I never read it. Is that so?"

"Yes."

"What an ironic twist of happenstance," mused Sophie. "But I am grateful for it! You cannot know how this has plagued me. If you had not brought up the letter, Frederik would never have permitted me to tell you." She looked down at her phone, and the pained expression, which passed over Anne's features, went unseen. The small, dark-haired woman could not speak a word; emotions within her made it impossible.

Sophie considerately changed the subject, "Frederik is on his way to France. It seems the business with the land might finally come to fruition. Raoul's half-brother came to New York to persuade Raoul to sell his claim to the property and, having understood what Frederik's interest in the matter was, he was invited to accompany the brother on his return."

Anne welcomed the change of subject and asked, "Will he get the cottage?"

"I am not certain; he isn't sure yet what will be the result until this man presents the contract. But it is very promising." There was a lull, which Sophie tried to end by offering, "My brother, Edward, is to take Meg to the city early tomorrow. You are welcome to spend the night and return with them. Perhaps…one day you can consider me a friend." The plea was followed by a heartfelt burst of penitence. "I can not tell you how sorry I am!"

Anne looked into the older woman's face and whispered, "I… I forgive you." It was all she could manage. She quickly left the room.

That evening she took a cab back to her apartment. She could not bear for Sophie, Meg, or Rook to see her in such a state. She felt those nine years like a boulder around her neck. All those years she had felt rejected, when he had never known the state of her heart upon leaving the Academy. As she crossed the bridge, her phone informed her that there was an email waiting. She found a communication from _WentworthOG_:

_My deepest regrets that I have been called away by a very important business matter. Regarding the amount of your pay, there was no mistake._

_Gratefully,_

_F. W._

The words were like an admonition to her. Sophie's admission had shocked then angered her. But after the initial reactions had faded, she had not found it difficult to forgive her. The thought that cut into her like a knife was that she had not forgiven Frederik. That was the reason she had not continued to seek for another communication with him! That was the reason she had left off thinking of him! She had not forgiven what she believed to be his trespass against her: the _Siren's Song_. And now he knew. Now he was aware of her reluctance to let it go; her Elliot pride! She felt so ashamed. Dawning knowledge after dawning knowledge pained her more and more on her journey. Frederik had never received the letter; therefore, he must have believed she had been completely persuaded not to love him. From his point of view, she had left the school without any desire to communicate with him and he'd never heard a word from her. Oh, how miserable this new understanding made Anne! What he must have gone through. 'But still,' the voice within whispered, 'he wrote the song all the time knowing whose voice was meant to sing it.' Immediately the answer came: 'Because he verily thought she had teased and tormented him, and at the first sign of loyalty, left him to his misery!' She could not blame him; she only wished she could tell him she was sorry. Did he think less of her now for her begrudging spirit? The thought stung her with its sharp point again. She, who had given of herself patiently to her family despite their hurtful words at times; she, who had believed herself tried when his head was turned by Louisa; she, who had perceived herself as doing Frederik a favor by singing the Siren's piece; she was the one to blame now!

It was possible that nothing could be done to mend matters between them. She may have lost the one opportunity he had granted her. The words he had spoken so gently in her ear flooded back. She ached to cry aloud, but stared forward with a hard look on her countenance. Anger with herself would not allow her to vent her emotions. There were no tears of pity as she had had when she had first learned of his visit to California. There were no tears of frustration now like the ones she had shed after witnessing his attention to Louisa. There were no tears of hurt such as those she had let fall after he had offered her the part in his musical. Her cheeks were dry; she could not cry for a situation that was of her own making.

The week before opening night passed slowly for Anne. Frederik remained in France, and, according to Meg, was expected to return the day before the long-awaited official opening performance of _The Siren of the Laconia_. As each day passed, Anne felt her energy wane. Her classes at the school and separate voice lessons were putting a strain on her abilities to perform in each show, she told herself. But the true root of her listlessness came from her own mind; she was greatly depressed. A day after she had learned the truth from Sophie, she had considered responding to Frederik's email. Just to tell him, "I understand now. I'm sorry." Yet, all four of the drafts she'd written, she deleted. There were so many feelings which she could not express, so many sympathies she could not address because he had never admitted to having been hurt by her. She had gone over Frederik's words to her a hundred times:

"_What I said was true, wasn't it?"_

"_You have a very forgiving spirit, do you not?"_

What had he meant by them? Did he believe she would seek some revenge on Carlotta? Surely not! He knew her well enough not to entertain that thought for a moment! Had he truly been asking her to forgive something? If so, what? What could he possibly wish her to forgive? What a wonderful soul he was! He had believed her to have left him without another thought nine years ago, and had offered her the song! He had been backstage to help her down and, in doing so, rescued her. She could forgive him for anything now! But did it do any good? Suppose he was only interested in her forgiveness from a business standpoint. Was he perfectly satisfied to let bygones by bygones and be business associates? The thought stuck in her throat.

"Oh, love me, Erik. Love me again like you once did!" she whispered as she stood on the balcony after offering a tender aria to the sky one evening.

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**A/N: So… did this revelation surprise you or did you expect it all along?**

**bluetinkerbell: Relieved to know I'm not the only one who confuses Cousin Collins with Cousin William Elliot. (I would not be surprised if Collins' name has been inserted in a couple of my chapters completely by accident.) It was very close to the character and situation of the book then? Yey!! Thanks; your reviews are a joy.**

**Pocket Pixie: Leroux's POTO is not faithfully depicted in this story at all. Check out literatureproject dot com to read POTO. It really isn't that long, and reads like a Sherlock Holmes, imo. Wow: 3 times! Perhaps you can tell me: does it all make sense? I've been wondering whether it flows.**

**Misty Breyer: I was concerned that the chapter might be perceived as "Raoul-bashing." I wasn't interested in Raoul's true character at all, but Wm Elliot's character. Chawton! (Insert **_**Napoleon Dynamite's**_** "Lucky" here.) Have you posted your impressions online somewhere? If so, tell me where to look!**

**Ana-Misa: Excellent points about telling Valeria and her family about Raoul's deception. And now you know about the late night conversation between Sophie and Frederik. **_**You **_**have been an immeasurable help in this process! I truly believe the reviews for this piece compete with the story; they are so thorough and interesting! I, too, immersed myself in the stories of Anne Shirley because of Kevin Sullivan's film. For that reason I can never judge someone who falls in love with a character from a movie, before reading the book, as less of a fan.**


	68. A Surprise Arrival

**A/N: To take advantage of this chapter's title, here it is a tad early:**

Chapter 68 – A Surprise Arrival

After the performance the Friday night before the official opening, Anne took the subway to the stop nearest Camden Place. No one had returned her calls. She was concerned that the cause might stem from something other than her father's whim to ignore his messages.

When Elizabeth opened the door to her, Anne sensed that something was amiss. "This day has been intolerable," Elizabeth complained as Anne situated herself in the drawing room. Walter Elliot acted preoccupied and was not so ready to enlighten his daughter with his opinions of himself or others. Yet, she did not desire to be rude and directly ask her father the reason for his mood. Elizabeth seemed in high dudgeon as well; for her words were spoken sharply. It was obvious they did not desire her presence among them. Penelope was seated away from the family, perusing her mail at a small table.

The awkward silence was pressing, and Anne quickly picked up her sister's thread of conversation and responded, "We have had disagreeable weather these two days; I hope it will not upset plans for tomorrow night. You know _The Siren_ opens tomorrow. I think the show will be quite spectacular," Anne encouraged, addressing her father who took longer than was his habit to respond.

"Perhaps we shall come one afternoon. I have not thought on it much. Besides, I hold no respect for that Carlotta woman."

"I doubt we will have time for it, Anne. We have too many pressing matters…" Elizabeth's voice trailed off, but she did not elaborate.

Again the silence prevailed, and Anne tried again by bringing up Mrs. Russell. "I will see Valeria at noon tomorrow; have you spoken with her recently?

"No. I have a book you must give to her which she lent me weeks ago. It was some self-help publication about financial security. I am sure I can't make heads or tails of it. But do not tell her that. Tell her…I don't know, but make it sound as though I have read it." Anne did not respond, and Elizabeth continued, "Oh, and one other thing: did you see Valeria's dress for the concert? Very unflattering. It was so…so frou-frou. You must tell her to hire a decent fashion stylist. She can not afford to be seen in gowns that hideous!" Elizabeth laughed contemptuously and motioned for Penelope to attend her words. "To watch her at the concert so stately, as is her habit, with those flounces around her neck and sleeves; it was really very absurd."

"I know it is the trend, but, Anne, you must hint to her that a woman of her years and situation must use some discretion," added Walter Elliot. "That dress _was_ ill-advised. I would have told her myself, but in my position I can hardly be expected to give Valeria Russell advice on her wardrobe don'ts. But tell her I shall visit shortly all the same and perhaps I will do so before long."

Penelope Clay stood and Elizabeth asked her, "Are you going out now?" She nodded. "When you pick up my things; tell them to send us the bill."

Anne looked to Elizabeth, desiring to ask why Mrs. Clay was seeing to errands. Her older sister anticipated her question and announced nonchalantly, "We no longer employ a manservant."

"Elizabeth," Walter Elliot mumbled in reproof.

"Well, there's no point in hiding it; she will know it soon enough," she argued. Peremptorily, she told Anne, "Furthermore, this will be our last week in the suite."

"Where will you go?" Anne asked, perceiving that their financial straits were the cause for Elliot's unresponsiveness. Neither the daughter nor the father seemed inclined to reply.

"I have done everything in my power to spend as little as possible, and still…! It is all such an aggravation; I do not want to think on it." Walter Elliot considered for a moment, musing: "I suppose we will move back to Malibu."

"What about the Wentworths?" Anne wondered. "I thought they were still under lease."

Elizabeth answered dully, "They are until the end of this month, but we intend to sell."

Realizing the California home was next to go, Anne's look of consternation rose too quickly to her face for her to contain it. "Well, what would you have us do, Anne? You have been no help at all, while I have been trying to come up with a way to salvage our livelihood!" expressed the Great Elliot. He lifted his eyes to the medallion deco design of the ceiling above and groaned. "If only Shepherd had been able to handle matters for another month!"

Elizabeth responded to the inquiring gaze of her sister. "Dad has agreed to some endorsement work for Gowland Industries."

Anne asked her father, "What is Shepherd's advice?"

"He says that now is not the time to put the property on the market, but to liquidate a few of my collectibles." Walter Elliot scoffed. "I asked him whether I should auction my Stradivarius on Ebay, as well."

Elizabeth addressed her sister, "He did tell Dad that he should consider auctioning some of his instruments – not the Strad, of course – to private collectors. He gave him a few agents' names that might be willing to assist him."

"I don't want to give away my possessions; the reason I keep them is because they are valuable!"

"Shepherd says he should take the money and pay off the past-due mortgages on the estate," Elizabeth continued, ignoring her father's remark.

"And, _I_ said 'what was the point in having an estate when I'll have nothing to put in it'? I don't want to live in an empty house! Why would I want to live with none of the things to which I am accustomed: no car and driver, no finery to admire, nothing whatsoever to keep me there!" complained the Great Elliot, furiously banging his fist on the arm of his chair.

"Dad, you must calm yourself. Shepherd would not steer you wrong -," tried Anne.

"He already has. He has ruined me! From the moment we moved here, he has not ceased to hassle me over all the trifling problems he cannot seem to work out with the bank. What is the point of employing him to settle matters if he doesn't settle them! He had the impudence to say that I had tied his hands by waiting until there was nothing that could be done. You know, I think I should hire someone to look into his dealings with my money, the thief!"

The doorbell interrupted the conversation, and Walter Elliot's face grew hopeful. "Perhaps Raoul has returned to town early!" He did not get up to attend the door, but beckoned to his older daughter.

Elizabeth did not stir. "Oh, no, Dad," she warned her father. "If you solicit him to pay down the balance on the estate, it will be the end of everything."

"Nonsense. He has money, and he must know that once I get on my feet again, I'll repay him. Besides, he will be more closely associated with the family soon enough, will he not? The Malibu home might as well be his when I am-,"

The doorbell rang again. "Get the door," he told Anne. While she wished to make her father and sister aware of Raoul's deception, it was not the appropriate time to do so if he were standing directly outside the residence. Walking into the entrance hall, she prayed it would not be he. Enough time had elapsed since her discovery of her cousin's true character for Anne to be fully convinced that he was not to be trusted. She feared for her father and sister, though they might be in reduced circumstances; for, she felt certain Raoul would find other ways of exploiting the Great Elliot's celebrity and reputation. She felt loath to be in his company again.

She opened the door cautiously to find Mary Musgrove and her husband before her. Mary rushed in, hugging her gleefully, her eyes taking in the ambience of the front hall. "Oh! This is simply ravishing!" Her face was beaming as she hurried into the drawing room.

"Why, Mary," the Great Elliot's tone was more of surprise than pleasure.

"How are you, Anne?" Charles asked, as they followed Mary into the room.

"At the moment, I am shocked. What a surprise!"

"Yes, we did not expect you," added Elizabeth while Mary embraced her father.

"Well, of course not. That's why it is called a surprise! We have just arrived with Charles' parents, Louisa, Henrietta, and Harville. We are here for Frederik Wentworth's musical and intend to stay until Monday. This little vacation is really his doing; he sent Louisa and Benwick a gift of six tickets for the opening of the _Siren_ along with packages for some spa in the city. Louisa and Henrietta have taken the weekend off from school to fly out for the performance. But Benwick had a previous engagement with a symphony orchestra in Chicago, and Charles Hayter had a funeral. So, here we are; though I really think he should have sent eight tickets instead of six. But I mustn't be rude to him about it, you know. I'm sure it was difficult enough to procure those for tomorrow night."

"I should say so," asserted Anne, pleased that her sister chose not to be offended and anxious to retain that spirit within Mary. "From what I understand, the first performance is sold out," she added.

"It's great fun for us, while my sisters' intendeds have to slave away," Charles remarked, nodding a greeting to his father-in-law.

"Are you looking forward to the show then?" Mary asked her eldest sister.

Elizabeth replied in a bored tone, "We are rather tired of that sort of entertainment."

"Oh, but you must go!" Mary asserted.

"Where are you staying?" asked Anne, trying to change the subject from the difficulties the topic of tickets must necessarily recall to her father and Elizabeth's minds.

"We are staying at the White Hart. Frederik recommended it. It is very nice, though it is not nearly as large as this."

"Well, this is one of the newer residences," explained Elliot, condescendingly.

Elizabeth hurriedly added, "Though the older hotels are really the thing when visiting this city. You know, you can't fully enjoy the feel without being in one of the historical establishments. The White Hart was a good choice." Anne surmised that her older sister was anxious that Mary should not invite herself to stay with them.

The inhabitants of Camden Place acted cordially toward Mary and her husband. They offered to show the guests around the suite, and Mary accepted readily, while Charles preferred to stay and admire the drawing room.

"I gather things are well for both Louisa and Henrietta?" Anne inquired of her brother-in-law.

"Yes."

"And how are your father and mother?"

"They are well. They were worried for Louisa's health when she returned to the university, of course, but she seems to be more serious about her studies. She has changed a great deal." Charles' manner was reminiscent. "She used to have an energetic spontaneity about her before. Now, I find she prefers the quite and solitude, keeping her nose in a book and finding some aspect of it to discuss over the phone with Benwick."

Anne smiled, and Charles continued, "I doubt she would have decided New York was to her taste if not for her desire to be gracious toward Frederik for the tickets."

"Yes. I had heard of his generosity through Edward and Laticia, but I did not know that he had invited so many."

Mary reentered the room and stood near the desk Penelope had vacated earlier. "Anne, who is the man standing beside you in this little picture?" She was holding up a magazine, its pages opened to the society section. Anne walked over to view the layout, when Mary gasped. "Why, that is the man on the bridge in St. Augustine. Let me see: '_Is the mourning period over for stunning French widower, de Chagny? _– de Chagny? As in 'Raoul de Chagny'? Anne, you're seeing Raoul?" Elizabeth walked in at that moment, and her manner was clearly one of displeasure.

"Of course she is not seeing Raoul, Mary. You are so gullible sometimes. Do you believe everything you read in those entertainment magazines? It's just mindless gossip."

"Yes, Mary. It is only written for sensationalism," Anne seconded.

"Well, what are you doing with him here?" the youngest sister asked, flipping the publication to look at the front cover.

Immediately Elizabeth suggested, "You must come for coffee one evening, and we can discuss it then. But not now; Dad is under the weather tonight."

"Oh, that would be wonderful. But Henrietta and Louisa's flight is scheduled to return on Sunday," expressed Mary, assuming that the Musgroves were invited.

"It is just as well," responded Elizabeth, seeing that she might get out of even the small hospitality she had offered.

"I know! We will all come after the performance tomorrow! It will be a merry family party."

"Well, let us keep it small," responded the hostess. "Just an intimate family gathering."

"Oh, of course. And I suppose Raoul will attend, too?" Mary hinted, looking at her sister expectantly.

"Yes, I will invite him. He is scheduled to return tomorrow and, if his plane is not delayed, I expect he will come." Delight was plainly written on Mary Musgrove's countenance. Anne, conversely, was feeling fortunate that she had missed the company of the man.

"You know, I was just a child when he came to California…" Mary said thoughtfully.

"Yes, well, we all grow up and have matters to attend to," responded Elizabeth, making her desire for her sister's removal evident.

"I think," interposed Charles, "that we must return to the hotel. My family will be awaiting our return."

"You should join us!" posed Mary to Elizabeth. "You could direct us to the best places to eat."

"Another time," Elizabeth stated. "I must see to Dad; he is very fatigued."

"Of course." Mary's tone was one of supreme disappointment.

"Might I come with you, Mary?" asked Anne. "I should very much like to see the Musgroves.

"Oh, yes. Come along then," the youngest sister directed, and her spirits seemed slightly improved.

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**A/N: Can you tell where we are in _Persuasion_?**

**Misty Breyer: It was just a little "zap" of electricity; I giggled obnoxiously when I wrote it. I **_**love**_** to cook, too. You should have kissed it! Or pried a tiny splinter off. Just kidding…maybe.**

**saved-by-grace: I am so pleased and return the thanks. I would read your **_**Persuasion**_** fic, but I rarely view "T"-rated, much less "M."**

**bluetinkerbell: You are so hilarious! Yes, Raoul was trouble enough! Now Carlotta's going "all evil and stuff." (still laughing) Don't feel pressured about my other fic; it's a completely different genre.**

**Nonny: What a scrumptious review! I have revisited Anne's reaction regarding Raoul in this very chapter, just as you suggested. Look in this site's "forums" under "book" and "Jane Austen" for **_**The Jane Austen Writing Society**_**. Sorry I didn't clarify that. I am the same way about joining things; I was a lurker on this site for longer than I care to admit.**

**Ana-Misa: Okay, I got chills when you called Carlotta a viper. Before I posted the chapter, I deleted a one-word author's note: "viperess!" (Which, of course, isn't really a word and wasn't necessary.) "Darth Carlotta!" That's even worse. Yes, Leroux's OG plays tricks on the producers. **_**The Siren**_** is intended to be a highly publicized production; so security guards the entrances. Yeah, while you were boarding the plane disappointedly, the security guards were probably scarfing down your sister's homemade jam. Thanks!**


	69. Visiting at the White Hart

Chapter 69 – Visiting at the White Hart

"You must call Valeria. I am sure she will want to know we are in town," Mary told Anne as they seated themselves in the taxi. "Perhaps she might wish to go out to eat with us."

"That is a possibility," she considered aloud as she pulled her cell out of her pocket and pushed the button to connect with her godmother. She did not let on how intimidating calling Mrs. Russell was to her at the moment. Her godmother had made no effort to speak with her since she had been informed of Anne's decision to take the role in Frederik Wentworth's musical. It was only after much effort on Anne's part that she had been able to procure the short appointment she had made with her for a luncheon together on the morrow; and though she was not looking forward to the coldness that must be present in those first moments of greeting she had hopes that Valeria would be softened. After three rings, Valeria picked up.

"Hello, Anne," the woman's tone was a trifle distant.

"Someone is in town I think you might wish to speak with." Anne smiled as she gave the phone to Mary, and her sister prattled on to Valeria for some time.

"Oh, you have already eaten. We would stop by, but we must get back to Charles' parents. They are waiting dinner for us." They spoke of the theatrical and Anne surmised that Valeria would be attending. The understanding pleased her, and gave her hope that her godmother was not so angry as to miss the opening night.

Anne entered the foyer of the White Hart to find Dr. and Mrs. Musgrove seated on the high-backed chairs. Louisa and Henrietta, who had been at the window, came over to Mary.

Louisa's brow was furrowed and Henrietta asked, crossly, "Where have you been? Oh, hello, Anne!"

"We were not so very long. Are you ready to take dinner?"

"I am famished, if you are not," added Charles.

Anne was being smothered with hugs, realizing that her presence was construed as a peace offering for Mary and Charles' tardiness. The Musgrove family behaved towards her as though her presence was absolutely necessary for their enjoyment. Somehow Anne knew it was not because of her knowledge of the city. To be needed and treated as a desired member of their party was, indeed, a happy position for Anne. In this regard, the Musgroves were more appealing in their nature than the inhabitants of Camden Place. Louisa and Henrietta petitioned her for advice during the meal regarding the best shops. "We have very little time, so we must choose wisely," Henrietta remarked with an expression which convinced Anne that she had grown in mind as well as in body.

When they returned to the hotel, Anne assisted Mrs. Musgrove in unpacking as Dr. Musgrove left the room to inform his friends of his presence in the neighborhood. "Have you noticed how tall Henrietta is since the summer?" the mother asked. When Anne acknowledged that she had, Mrs. Musgrove remarked, "My Henrietta has become such a comfort to me; so strong and… well, I feel I can rely on her more since -," Mrs. Musgrove broke off. It seemed that Louisa's fall was still a subject her mother could not converse upon lightly. "She is all grown up and must choose for herself what she will do. You have heard that we are planning a double wedding?"

"No! How wonderful-," Anne stopped short, realizing that it would be especially difficult for Mrs. Musgrove to be bereft of both of her daughters at once. "They were always very close. I'm sure it will be a very touching ceremony."

"Yes," Mrs. Musgrove did not seem to be able to speak but the one syllable. This news was enough for Anne to perceive how the relationship with Henrietta and her mother had changed. Through the trials of Louisa's accident, Henrietta had proven herself a pillar of strength to her mother, and Mrs. Musgrove was learning to let go.

Anne alternated among Mary's, Mrs. Musgrove's, and Louisa and Henrietta's rooms, offering her energies in situating them for the nights they would be staying in New York. Mary was concerned that there were not enough towels and insisted that Anne go down with her so that she might choose the best quality. Before descending in the lift, Anne found herself carrying a pile of toppling pillows, which Mary hoped to exchange for some which might be a bit firmer. "I don't care what they say about all the hotel linens and pillows being the same. They are not, and I always request to test what is available." Mary had been kind enough to volunteer to do the same for her in-laws, though Mrs. Musgrove found her pillows to be perfectly to her liking. And so it was that Anne found herself at the front desk while Mary demanded to see the establishment's inventory. She was rather accustomed to Mary's ways and merely peered around the stack in her arms as she followed her sister and the kindly clerk. As a sampling of pillows and towels were presented to Mary, the younger sister flipped through the selection rather carelessly. She made her choices quickly – Anne was never able to perceive that they were any different from the ones she'd carried down – and directed that the newly-appointed items be delivered to the rooms without another thought for them. Mary's sudden change of manner surprised Anne, who had expected the task to take at least half an hour to accomplish.

Once the hotel employee was out of hearing, Mary seized Anne's arm and whispered. "We just passed my cousin, Raoul; he is in the hotel's lounge with a blonde-haired woman."

"I'm sure you are mistaken," answered Anne, as Mary forcefully led her down the corridor they had just traversed. "Elizabeth said he was out of town," she added, more to herself than to Mary.

They rounded the corner. "You see," Mary whispered, though she was well-mannered enough not to point. Anne perceived a man and woman saying some word to one another as they exited through the outer door, opposite the entryway to the hotel where she stood beside Mary. She was sure it was Raoul, his countenance in plain view. He was speaking with someone who looked to have the same features as Penelope Clay. Her conversation with the man seemed of a serious nature. They stood for a moment more before both walked away in opposite directions.

"I believe it was Penelope Clay. Was it not, Anne?" Mary asked, as Anne turned and continued to the elevators. "What is wrong?" Mary inquired again when her sister did not respond to her question.

"Nothing. I am…not certain," Anne stated, entering the elevator. She could hardly believe it. Could it possibly have been Penelope meeting Raoul in the lounge? What reason would they have to speak with one another? All that Sophie had told her of her cousin came back to her with great impact; as though visually seeing him with the very person he had found to have too much influence with her father corroborated this new knowledge she had of him.

"Well, _I_ am quite certain," asserted Mary, as the two women stepped out of the elevator, and Harville, on his cell, passed them. "Hi!" he mouthed to Anne in greeting, and then pointed to the device at his ear, excusing himself from the hallway. The noise of animated voices caught her attention; Richard Musgrove's was among them. He and two former colleagues were engrossed in a conversation, medical jargon fluent upon their tongues. Anne followed Mary to the table where Mrs. Musgrove sat with Henrietta. The table was covered with city guides, pamphlets, and magazines which Henrietta was absorbed in flipping through. The table, where Mrs. Musgrove sat, ended at the corner of the wall of the wide corridor which opened into a small sitting area. His figure awkwardly draped upon the chair that was too short for his lanky frame, Frederik Wentworth continued in discussion with Charles until he noticed her. The presence of Frederik almost halted her steps. She felt a surge of elation well up in her at the sight of him.

She hesitated beside Mrs. Musgrove, who looked up and declared, "Ah, here is Anne. I'm sure she will know."

Henrietta explained, "There is to be a bridal expo tomorrow afternoon, but we are not certain we can find it on our own. Would you be able to attend with us?"

"You will never guess who we just saw leaving the hotel lounge!" Mary said, pretending to ignore Henrietta's invitation. Anne knew she was offended that she had not been asked. "My cousin, Raoul de Chagny. Oh, and look!" Anne's sister had espied a publication of the same name as the one in the Camden Place suite on the table in front of Mrs. Musgrove. She snatched it up and was quickly flipping through it to Anne's horror.

Anne gave all her attention to Henrietta, praying she would not find the tiny picture, but, all the same, certain of her fate. "Where is it being held? I do not think I can attend, but I would be pleased to give you directions." Anne's eyes were glued to the pamphlet that Henrietta was holding, feigning to read the announcement, but completely absorbed in the inevitability of what Mary would soon display.

"Here it is. You see! That is Anne and Raoul. Isn't he handsome?" Standing beside the table, she innocently directed the magazine toward Frederik; he made no motion to take it from her. Mary showed the page to Mrs. Musgrove, who reached out her hand for it.

"Why, it _is _Anne! You look very happy there, my dear." Mrs. Musgrove addressed her.

Henrietta gasped. "Isn't that the man who returned your scarf?" she asked Anne.

"Yes, yes!" Mary spoke excitedly. "Isn't it uncanny? We met him on the bridge in St. Augustine. Where is Louisa? I want to show her."

"She is on the phone with Benwick," Henrietta responded. Then, to Anne she declared, "That scarf was in a terrible condition, I recall. Frederik had a difficult time finding the replacement. Did you ever receive the things from the Inn?" Anne's eyes flitted to Frederik's profile as she answered that she had. He was staring forward at a portrait against the opposite wall.

Henrietta was still hovering over the magazine page, "Louisa will want to see this when she returns. Is he a nice man?" she asked.

Though Frederik had not shown any sign of interest, she wanted so badly to give the right response. What could she say? She was disgusted with Raoul and wanted to express it vehemently; not only to appease her own feelings on having been photographed with him, but also to relay to Frederik that M. de Chagny meant nothing to her. A hundred words came to her lips, none of them appropriate at the moment.

She merely shrugged with a look of disinterest and walked over to the portrait on the wall, pretending to admire it. Knowing that Frederik had truly replaced the scarf put too many hopes and doubts into conflict within her to make it easy to withstand his gaze.

"Of course he is nice," Mary averred. "But Anne doesn't think it was Raoul in the lounge. Yet, I am sure it was he and Penelope Clay!" Anne closed her eyes in frustration, her back to the inhabitants of the room. Would that Mary had not mentioned Mrs. Clay! Now Frederik would think that her reaction stemmed from jealousy in seeing her cousin with another. It seemed the more she met with Frederik, the more circumstances surrounding them drew them into misunderstanding one another.

"Anne, if you are not busy, Louisa and I would love it if you would go shopping with us tonight," Henrietta expressed.

"I thank you, but it is getting late." She turned her head to the side; enough to address Henrietta but in such a way that she might not view Frederik's features directly. "I must be rested for the performance tomorrow."

"Oh, yes," smiled Mary. "I had all but forgotten you were singing in the musical."

"What musical?" inquired Mrs. Musgrove. "You don't mean you are in _The Siren of the Laconia_?" The mother looked flabbergasted as Anne nodded. "Why! Why no one told us!"

"Oh, didn't I?" asked Mary, with very little concern. "It must've slipped my mind; besides, it is only a small part."

As Anne turned around, Frederik looked to the singer with an expression that clearly expressed surprise. What was so astonishing, she could not fathom; yet, she was afraid Mary's remarks had greatly offended him. "You remember the song Frederik played for us at the Grand Manor?" she added.

"Mary, I can't believe you never mentioned it!" Henrietta exclaimed.

Mary laughed lightly, and responded, "It doesn't signify. You won't see her anyway. Isn't that right, Anne?"

Anne made no attempt to answer her sister but tried to judge Frederik's reaction with a furtive glance. She still found it difficult to tell what was going through the composer's mind. Was he angry? Was he considering the words they had exchanged about the song before he left? She knew he was aware she had been told the truth by Sophie. If only she could know his thoughts at that moment.

"What about tomorrow morning? Might we meet for breakfast? Say 8:30?" Henrietta looked at Anne in mock reproof. "You are not to get out of spending time with us that easily."

"He will probably be at Camden Place for coffee tomorrow night," Mary interrupted, speaking of Raoul once again. Anne knew Mary could hardly contain herself; it was such an affront for her older sister to be asked to go along when she had not been. "Oh, I did not tell you, did I?" she addressed her mother-in-law, with pronounced self-importance. "We will have coffee at Dad's after seeing the _Siren _tomorrow."

"I'm very pleased for you, dear," replied Mrs. Musgrove looking a bit embarrassed by Mary's boast.

"You are invited as well," she exclaimed in a manner that bespoke her mother-in-law should have known it already. "We must all attend; Louisa and Henrietta, too."

"Well, I have no intentions of going to Camden Place for coffee after the musical," asserted Charles. "I have plans to see a man about a driver. Increased sweet spot, top-of-the-line graphite shaft… I will be too busy tomorrow night."

Mary looked at him wide-eyed. "Charles what can you possibly be thinking? You will not get to meet Raoul if you do not."

"I already met him once on the bridge. That was quite enough for me."

"But, he is my cousin. We didn't know that then. He is very important with his -," Mary broke off, glancing quickly at Frederik. Anne was certain she was going to say "title." Instead she said, "- property and his friendship with my father. It would be most beneficial to our position as members of my father's circle-,"

"Your father is the object around which his circle revolves, and, as I am well acquainted with him, I think our position is safe." Anne perceived that the argument between the couple had drawn Frederik's interest. His eyes were directly on hers as Charles finished his speech as though to say, 'What think you of your brother-in-law's views?' Anne fought the urge to turn back to the portrait.

Mary tried a different tactic. "Well, I believe it is very rude not to spend some time with my family, especially when they do not have tickets to see the theatrical tomorrow night."

"That might be all the more frustrating for them, since that will most likely be the foremost topic of conversation," Charles responded, unmoved.

"And what about Anne? You should at least be there to congratulate her on her first performance!" Mary averred, though she had previously been satisfied to overlook her sister's role altogether.

"Mary," spoke Anne. "It isn't really my first performance. The previews have run for a week now. Besides, I really do not care whether we meet at Camden Place. I only hope to spend time with you all while you are here. And, truly," Anne added quietly, "opening night is more of a celebration of Frederik's success."

"Well, I daresay he can come as well. It is only coffee; it is not as though everyone must R.S.V.P."

Anne did not look at Frederik. She smiled inwardly at the thought that he would be disposed to sit in her father's drawing room and listen to the Great Elliot's dull, pompous speeches. Yet, the invitation had been so flippant that Mary's words embarrassed her. She felt that if she did not try to address Frederik soon, some other terrible miscommunication would occur between her and the silent man seated across the way. She was prepared to go to him and apologize; she must try her best to make amends for her mistake.

At that very moment Frederik arose from his chair, and Charles spoke to him. "I am amazed at how long Harville takes in conversation with his wife. I would think they would have spent enough time together to have said all there is to say," he jested.

"Perhaps he is the type of husband who enjoys his wife's interests," Mary pouted, sitting down and eyeing her husband crossly. "I'm sure Harville would attend a coffee if his wife's family invited him, just as Frederik would if he were married. Wouldn't you, Frederik?" she asked as he made to cross in front of her.

He halted and looked down at her. "I avoid topics of this nature; precisely because I am not a married man. If I were to say, 'I am certain I would or would not act in such a way,' you could just as easily tell me that I do not know what I would do since I have not been in the scenario before. Therefore, I find it best not to give my opinion on such matters." Charles laughed heartily as Frederik circled the chairs and drew near Anne. Her heart was beating irrepressibly fast as he approached.

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**followthestory: Yes, Sophie ruined things, but Anne knew that the issue at hand was to let Sophie know she would not hold the grudge. It was a harsh realization, but she could not recover those lost nine years with anger at Sophie. Yet, you'll notice that Anne had an earlier opportunity to say she forgave her and did not take it. The last thing I expect to be told, when writing a fanfic, is: I've kept **_**too**_** close to the original story. I just cannot look upon that as a bad thing. Your thoughts give me much to ponder when going back over this story. Thanks, as always!**

**vixen519: Oh, that is great!!! (Lol) Loved your review. Too bad a smackdown would be ooc for Anne because I can almost picture it. But, no… Carlotta's going to have to get her comeuppance some other way. (Evil grin.)**

**Pocket Pixie: You raised a lump in my throat with your review. I am looking forward to being able to put "complete" on this piece, as well. But I don't want to throw the chapters up without feeling they are ready.**

**tannisa: Exactly. I hate wasting my time on a book with a sad ending. I close the book feeling miserable and must go scavenging through my "feel-good" stories for a pep talk. That should be answer enough for you. (smiling) Thanks!**

**Misty Breyer: Yeah, one minute Anne is being so good by forgiving Sophie, and the next, she finds she's been holding a grudge with Frederik after all. Takes us right back to what Frederik says at the concert in chapter 60, "Sometimes I think the one to whom a person is closest can be the source of the most heated conflict…"** **The person you love the most can do the most damage, mainly because they are only human. (Now you can see how he was ruminating about his own feelings at learning what Sophie had done.)**

**bluetinkerbell: Regarding the ending: maybe. Seriously, I can't tell you!! It is so nice to find this story still surprises and draws its readers along. Thank you.**

**Ana-Misa: You were right that Raoul's older half-brother showed up at the theater. His full name is not given for a reason, though. (That will be explained later.) Frederik's late-night discussion with Sophie was heated enough to wake Meg. So, Frederik did not take the news very well; it had to sink in. Yet another bull's-eye about the convergence of this story! The helping-her-down-the-stairs part was a fulfilling "coming 'round" moment. (I like those – sheepish grin.)**


	70. A Good Length of Time

Chapter 70 – A Good Length of Time

"Anne," Mrs. Musgrove beckoned. Anne did not budge a step; nothing could have pried her from the spot as Frederik came toward her. "Henrietta is more inclined to pale pink or peach for a wedding color, while Louisa wants a mute green, such as sage. Do you think peach and sage go well together?"

Anne opened her mouth as though to respond, but, verily, wedding colors were the furthest thing from her mind.

"Oh, I think that would be horrid," said Mary. "You must go with at least one bright color. Too pastel…oh, no, they will never do."

"I suppose you will go for coffee at your father's rather than attend the celebration after the show tomorrow." Frederik addressed her. Anne looked up at him.

"Oh, I had not considered it…" she began.

"You haven't much experience with parties of the sort, I gather."

Anne hardly knew how to take this, but to respond, "I suppose you are right."

"You never cared for social drinking."

"No. I find no joy in that form of diversion," Anne returned.

"I expected as much, though time can change a person."

She hesitated. "I – I don't think I have changed in principal so much as that."

Frederik was perusing the portrait now, his brow furrowed so that she thought he was displeased with her words. "It has been a good length time – nine years!" Then he was looking at her; his expression provoked her to feel as though he was comparing her features to what he had first seen of her so many years ago when she had sung in the practice room of the opera building.

She could not lift her eyes above his shirt collar to meet such a gaze. "I must apologize to you for what I said backstage a week ago." The remembrance of the past brought the words to her lips swiftly, though they were spoken in hushed tones.

"I beg you, do not apologize." Anne looked up to view his expression. "I am only sorry-,"

"I don't see why you don't like my suggestion. Lilac and teal are close to peach and sage." Mary was saying. "Anne, don't you think lilac and teal are very pretty together?"

She could hardly take her eyes from Frederik's countenance to respond to Mary. "I'm sure I have no great genius for what colors go best."

Anne, in directing her gaze away, glimpsed Harville approaching from the hall. Her heart dropped in disappointment. She knew Frederik would return to him. Yet there was so much left to say. What did he think of her? The same enigmatic expression was in his eyes that she had noted when greeting him at the concert. "You were told to dress in formal attire for the curtain call tomorrow night, I assume?" he asked.

The subject change took her a moment to reflect and answer, "Oh. Am I to go forward for the curtain call?"

"Have you not?" he asked, and Anne could feel his mood. His golden eyes clouded up, and he said heatedly. "Of course, you were to be present. I am surprised at Daroga!"

"I think it had more to do with Carlotta. I do not mind, I assure you, Erik –." She stopped herself; the name had already slipped out. Again she couldn't meet his gaze.

"Tomorrow night you will go forward for the curtain call, Christine." The name made her look up quickly. "And you might consider wearing the dress you wore to the concert." His eyes were on hers, and she knew it was a compliment. He wanted her to know he had noticed!

"I didn't expect the call to take that long. There was some business with the inn I had to see to," Harville interrupted them. He reached out his hand. "Wonderful to see you, Anne. Are you well?"

"Yes. Yes, I think so." She was still looking confusedly at Frederik.

Harville laughed, "Don't you know?"

Embarrassed, Anne reacted by backing away. "I must be going. Good evening, Frederik. Harville."

"We will meet in the lobby at 8:30 tomorrow morning, Anne?" Henrietta asked.

"Yes," she answered as she said goodnight.

When the doors of the elevator closed, she pressed her hands to her heart and tried to steady her breathing. She went over his words again. Was it possible that he…? Were his words really of any consequence? Yes! Yes, they were! He had spoken of the years that had passed. He knew how long it had been. He had understood about her letter to him.

"_I beg you; do not apologize_."

He had forgiven her. He wanted her to be present for the curtain call and had requested she wear the gown he had seen her in at the concert! Certainly these were indications that she might still have his admiration. "Perhaps" said the small voice, "he is only trying to prepare you for the opening night. Remember, you are the singer whom he employs."

Yet, she could not ignore the breathlessly giddy feeling within her as she left the hotel hurriedly, bent on getting home. She would wear the dress he requested, and he would know she wore it for him.

Anne, feeling less rested than she had hoped, awoke early to meet with Louisa and Henrietta the morning of the _Siren's_ first performance. The nervous anticipation within her the night before had kept her awake, but it had very little to do with the musical. As she raised herself from the bed, her hand felt the red, filmy material lodged halfway under her pillow. She pulled out the scarf, and pressed it to her cheek where it had rested until she had drifted off to sleep.

There was no noise from Gina's room. So, Anne crept silently about, making sure to pull together all of her things; for she would not return to her apartment before going to the theater in the late afternoon. She entered the hotel foyer at twenty after eight, not expecting that Louisa and Henrietta would be there to meet her. Nor were they. Instead, she found Laticia Wentworth talking with Mrs. Musgrove and Charles with Edward. Slightly away from them were Harville and Frederik in discussion. She considered approaching but did not do so immediately. She told herself that she would not know what to say to them but knew that she was waiting for some acknowledgement from Frederik. She wanted his invitation. Yet, it was not forthcoming.

"Anne, the girls will be down shortly. They overslept; I told them they should not have been out so late. It was the excitement, I suppose." Mrs. Musgrove motioned to her to sit down at the table where she was speaking with Mrs. Wentworth.

"It was almost a week before I could say to myself: 'She is improving'. It was such a shock to see her lying in that bed for the first time!" she continued in low tones, as Laticia nodded sympathetically. "But she is doing extraordinarily well. Don't you think, Anne?"

"I do, and she seems very happy."

"Yes, we all are." Mrs. Musgrove smiled, but there was a soft sadness in her eyes.

"Frederik tells me Benwick is a good man," offered Laticia.

"The best of men," the doting mother-in-law-to-be exclaimed.

"I can second that," announced Harville, coming up beside Anne's chair.

"Edward," Anne overheard Frederik say. "Might I use your laptop?"

"Of course," the brother responded, "as long I as can have it back before my conference at ten."

"It will not be for long. I would prefer to use it to email a detailed correspondence to a jeweler in the city."

"Then you may take charge of it while I go with Charles to see the latest marvel of golfing technology," he stated, smiling.

A look passed between Mrs. Musgrove and Charles. "You see," he said to her, "I will have time to be at Camden Place tonight after all."

"I am glad," Mrs. Musgrove expressed, and it occurred to Anne, as she watched her brother-in-law set off on his errand with Edward, that his mother had had some little influence in this change of plans.

It was then that Frederik looked at her, and nodded good morning. She smiled, and watched as he returned to his seat near a window overlooking the cityscape.

"My niece, Meg, is to perform in Frederik's theatrical and is consumed with talk of the first showing tonight. She can hardly contain her pent-up energy," Laticia said to Mrs. Musgrove.

"Where is Meg?" asked Anne.

"She is with the choreographer. There were some tapestries that were to be replaced, and she was called to go over her steps to ensure she does not trample upon them."

"Oh, that must be very nerve-racking for the poor girl," expressed Mrs. Musgrove. "I could never perform on a stage, no matter how much you paid me! I don't know how you can sit here so calmly, Anne. But I suppose you have been used to performing."

Anne smiled, but said nothing. Her eyes wandered to Frederik, and she overheard Harville beside him comment, "I will never be able to find the shop if I have to figure out the direction on this tiny screen." He put down the cell phone in dismay.

"Do you have a piece of paper? I'll write down the directions for you in a moment, then." Harville passed her table, approaching the front desk to procure the pad of paper, while Anne gave attention to the conversation going on between Mrs. Musgrove and Laticia.

"We asked that Henrietta wait until she graduated college. While the importance in finishing her degree was our reasoning, it was really my own selfishness that prompted me to make such a request of her. Once I understood that she was not going to change her mind, and after seeing her with her Charles, I could not help but relent. In truth, I have never found long engagements a good thing."

Laticia nodded her agreement as Harville passed the table again. "And, yet, I have always believed it unwise for two persons to rush into marriage without the benefit of a future plan – where one shall live, where the money to live on will come from. Today, couples do not seem to understand the consequences of such a binding contract as marriage. I do not mean to suggest that it is a business transaction; it should be viewed as more precious than any business transaction ever could be."

Mrs. Musgrove agreed, and Laticia continued. "I am fearful that the men and women of this generation do not know what they have lost; first, in not considering the implications of a marriage but marrying merely for the novelty of it, and, second, in not considering that in order to remain together for any period they must be willing to make sacrifices."

Anne felt an interest in the vein of this conversation; she saw how it might have related to her own situation at the Academy. Frederik must have considered the same, for presently she became aware of the pause in the click-clicking on the laptop's keyboard. She looked over to him, and his eyes were on her as though to say, 'Would it have been the same for us?' Anne could not be certain those were the sentiments expressed, yet she felt that look deep within her. Suddenly the burning flame flickered; what had happened the night before she could not misconstrue now. Could there be hope that he harbored a thought for her beyond just the concern of his musical?

A flush carried to the woman's face as Mrs. Musgrove opined with a sigh, "It seems that divorce has become of no significance."

Laticia responded, "Yes. When, in reality, it can destroy any hope of understanding the true nature of faithfulness and constancy. Something is lost in the mind of the one who can not know such dedication. And it affects both spouses and the children of such a tragedy. Mind you, there are extenuating circumstances in life; I do not speak of these, of course."

"Of course," responded Mrs. Musgrove.

Anne, keeping Frederik's profile in view, noticed Harville walk to the window. He stared out at the city at intervals then down to something in his cupped hand, as though he was deep in thought on some sorrow. The haze of the morning had all but disappeared now, and presently Harville's eyes looked up and caught Anne's. On his face was an expression which said, "I am not so distant in my musings that I would not enjoy company." So, she arose, walking over to him with a ready ear and a kindly smile upon her countenance.

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**Misty Breyer: No, Mary is not as haughty as Elizabeth; at least, that is what I surmise from reading J.A.'s book. I think she was happy to be in a different environment. Otherwise, she started feeling bored and sick.**

**followthestory: Glad you brought this up. I didn't see a point in "listening in" on another conversation regarding her role in **_**The Siren**_** after her confrontation with Valeria. It would have been bland. So, the reader must judge from Anne's words about the weather for the performance, and later, Mary's nonchalance in omitting to inform the Musgroves, that she has told them. Obviously, Anne's nature would mean she would not be inclined to speak of it without an interested audience, but would do so to inform.**

**Nonny: I agree about J.A.'s endings. I liked your checklist for my story's ending, too. It helped! Your analysis of Anne and Frederik's true situation was great, minus the curse word. (I really don't like to see them.) You ought to consider getting a ff account; it's not like you have a problem posting what you think!**

**bluetinkerbell: Walter Elliot irritates me to no end. While I may have dangled my characters over a few figurative cliffs, walking off of one is an entirely different matter (cheesy smile).**

**saved-by-grace: Thanks for giving me "an opportunity not to be missed" in reading your cut version! Argh: the rating system. Everyone seems to have a different definition.**

**Ana-Misa: I sip my tea and peruse your review with ardent attention. I love them so! The end **_**is **_**nigh. Yey; you noticed the theater excursion in **_**Persuasion**_**! I have to point out: asking Raoul to help him out has only occurred to Elliot recently. He did not encourage the acquaintance because of money, but because Raoul flattered him. Interesting thoughts about Mary's impressions of the mag pic . It was only meant to be a modern-day depiction of how rumors spread. (It was assumed that Anne and Raoul were on the brink of engagement in the book.) You know the conversation you are waiting for is next!**


	71. A Woman's Love

**A/N: Surprise update! Yey! I'm celebrating hits again. Lots of readers, really wonderful reviewers; a scribbler couldn't ask for more. And now, the drool-worthy chappie you've been waiting for…**

Chapter 71 – A Woman's Love

She stood for some minutes beside him at the window before he spoke. "Look at this," Harville said, opening a tattered, emerald green jewelry box which had been secured in his palm. Within was an ornate wedding band. Anne perceived that it was very old and uniquely crafted, as though layers and layers of tiny golden leaves had been overlapped to form the circle of the ring. Harville gestured for her to remove it from its pocket, which she did. It surprised her to find the fragile-looking piece was actually very sturdy. "Read the inscription," he told her, and she held it to the light.

Within the band, the delicate font read, "_Forever I will love you, Fanny. Your James._"

"You now may conceive the one on whose finger this ring was meant to be placed." Anne bowed her head sympathetically. "And now I have been asked to see a jeweler in town who might see to both the sizing and the new engraving. But it is too much for me, and so Frederik has been kind in taking up the task there. He will make the appointment online, specifying the new wording, and will accompany me to deliver it today to be picked up later this evening. Think! In mere hours the name on this ring will be forgotten; another in its place." Harville's heavy exhale caught in his throat mid-breath. "I do not think Fanny would have forgotten him so easily."

"I think you are right," Anne responded with tenderness in witnessing the brother's grief.

"She adored him. It was her way."

"It would be the same with any woman whose heart was truly bound to a man." Harville's face plainly showed he did not believe her statement. "You doubt my words, I see. I suppose I can understand why; it is not so much in vogue to be constant, as Laticia was just discoursing. Yet, we women have an instinctual desire to place our devotion in one man and can hardly be turned from it. Whether it is a blessing or curse, it cannot be helped!"

Harville's face was still skeptical as he replied, "Supposing your claim to be true: that a woman's love is constant by instinct – No. I cannot suppose it because I contend it is just the opposite: I believe there is evidence proving a man's love is stronger than a woman's."

"Admittedly," she agreed, "a man's feelings may have a passion or strength to which, generally speaking, a woman's may not compare in force. Yet, would that not also affirm my assertion that, due to the violence of such an emotion, it is less likely to remain at such a degree; if not for the physical inability to maintain that heightened extreme, then for the saneness of a man's mind?" Harville was shaking his head and Anne smiled, continuing, "Whereas a woman's love is like a steady stream, patiently flowing in its course 'til life is at its close."

"Or else drying up, as some springs are known to do," half-jested Harville. "But we shall not come to an agreement on whose side the greater ability to love lies."

At that point, attention was drawn away from the conversation by the laptop behind them being caught on its way to the floor. Frederik repositioned it and did not look up.

"That was close, my friend. Are you nearly finished?"

"I am in the midst of jotting down the directions now; it will be completed momentarily," he responded, the pen in his hand rapidly at work as he viewed the monitor.

"I'm not in any rush, moored satisfactorily in present company," Harville returned. For some minutes Harville stared out at the cityscape before lowering his voice again. "As I said before," he continued, "I don't expect us to agree on this matter, but I would like to point out that there is much against your theory recorded in books and music. And what about the plethora of statistical accounts based on polls performed? It is undoubtedly a woman's nature to be _inconstant_; I might even go so far as to say they are a fickle lot in general."

"But most polls are based on biases and are worded to better allow for the results the examiners wish to elicit," Anne said quietly. "And books and music can just as easily go either way. While you might bring up some song about the changeableness of a woman's heart, I would just as easily respond with a composition on the unfaithfulness of a man's."

Harville surprised her with his chuckle, and Anne joined him. When the mirth died down, he observed, "So, we can not prove it by books, music, or polls."

"I believe we will have no inarguable proof on this point but must be content to disagree. It cannot be helped; there will be a partiality in siding with the merit of the nature of men for you and the virtues of womankind for me. We only judge by what has been our individual experience."

"You know that it was my experience to be away from my wife for six to eighteen-month periods at a time on a cruise ship. I would play for guests on the vessel, many of whom were couples enjoying a romantic getaway. I can not express to you the anticipation I felt on the return stint knowing it would be only hours before I would see my wife and children again." Harville's face was toward the window as he relived those emotions. He seemed to catch himself, and said, "Mind you, I know it was not of the degree that soldiers endure in never knowing whether they shall return to see the shining eyes of the ones they love once more, thousands of miles with the ocean dividing them."

"Oh, but I think your love is just as worthy of the return devotion from those you crave to see again. I do, without reservation, believe your love is strong, true, and faithful for your wife. But can one – or should one – continue in such fidelity once the person being loved has gone-," She stopped herself; it was insensitive to continue with the thought aloud.

Harville, with a pained expression, nodded his understanding. "You are right. Do not think that Benwick's happiness is not my object. I love him as a brother. Yet, I can not help but wish-,"

It was Anne's turn to nod in understanding. "The love of a man and woman can conquer much, but it was not meant to supersede the bounds of death. In this life, while I credit men with the capacity to love long and fiercely, when it comes to endurance, a woman's heart was meant for such a task; like a tomb when sealed, it cannot be removed from her heart until she is no more in this life." She knew she spoke the words from deep within her, and that, had she been forced to do so, could not have uttered a syllable more. There was a lump in her throat; for what she had spoken verily showed her her own resolve. She could never love another as she loved Erik. There would never be one as precious to her as the man who sat slightly away, whom she could not look to but felt his presence.

"Frederik, Edward has just called to ask that I meet him and bring his laptop along," Laticia announced apologetically, approaching her brother-in-law.

"Very well. I have just finished," he responded, closing it. He scrawled a few more lines on the pad of paper resting on the arm of the chair as he handed Laticia the machine. "Give him my thanks." He looked up at Harville. "I have your confirmation number, if you need it. It is expected to be dropped off within the hour. Shall we go?"

"Yes." Harville turned back to Anne and, patting her shoulder, said, "You are a good soul. Come to visit us at the inn soon. Will you promise?"

"I would love to visit you and your family again as soon as I may." She looked askance at Frederik, thinking whether he was accepting of her friendship with the Harvilles. But he was readying himself to leave the lobby and gave her no notice. Laticia wished the remaining two women a hurried farewell and they headed for the entrance, Harville speaking with his friend while perusing the directions on the page in his hand. With heaviness for the realization of the steadfast intent of her heart, which she had just uncovered, Anne wandered toward the chair where Frederik had been seated.

"I don't know why the girls are so long in coming down. If they are not here in another five minutes, I will call them for you," Mrs. Musgrove offered.

"I am fine, really." A feeling of disappointment passed over her as she glanced at her garment bag lying across the back of a chair where she had draped it coming in. Why had Frederik given her such looks, but never spoken? She reproached herself for not truly giving him an opportunity. Perhaps if she had addressed him at some point. But when? Harville had needed someone with whom to speak; his grief for his sister was a sorrow with which she could empathize fully.

Lost in reviewing the conversation she had had with Harville, it startled her to hear Frederik's voice again. "I beg your pardon, I forgot my cell. I believe I left it in this chair." He reached down and picked up the phone which Anne had not noticed lying there. As he did so, she perceived a couple of sheets of the hotel paper, folded and resting beneath it. She looked up to see if he had noticed them and found his eyes on hers, a silent plea that she might take the message he left. He was gone again in an instant, and she picked up the pages with a shaking hand.

Mrs. Musgrove's back was to her, and she could hear the woman humming to herself as she sat reading the morning newspaper. Anne unfolded the letter quickly, her eyes hardly aware of what her hands were opening before her. The words on the page had been scribbled so rapidly that it took a moment to register Frederik's writing. But she knew it well enough to make it out. The greeting shook her sensibilities like the torrents would a vessel in a thunderstorm.

_My angel,_

_Your words to Harville burn me like a brand. While I am convinced there is no chance for me, I can do nothing but desire to be seared again rather than give up the hope that you__might still feel something for me. Tell me that there is time; that the love you felt for me once has not been completely banished from your heart forever. I lay my love at your feet. It is stronger now than it was nine years ago when you left France._

_How can you say that a woman's love endures beyond the capacities of a man's love? I admit I harbored resentment; I even hated you at first. And, yes, I composed the _Siren's Song_ with the object of exorcizing my mind of your influence. How ridiculous I felt when the realization came to me at the piano when you first sang the piece; it was your voice that was missing. I was angered then, and in my weakness, turned to one who was opposite in what I felt to be a flaw in your character. Forgive me; I know now that you are more beautiful and more excellent in your thoughts and understanding than I could ever deserve._

_When you sang the song in St. Augustine, I knew then. It was for you that I negotiated for the part to be reinserted into the musical. I told myself that you had always loved your music more than me, and if I could not have you, at least I could help you in your career. Yet, your reaction to my offer astonished me. What had I done? All I wanted was your happiness, I told myself._

_I have waited and watched, hoping to understand your behavior. Surely you have understood mine! As I listen I can hardly hold the pen in my hand. You can not tell me constancy is broken when death takes us! I will love you with a passion death cannot dim; for, I felt myself dead when your angelic voice called to me in my prison below the opera house. You brought me to life again!_

_And now you whisper, but the soft speech of your lips is clear to my ear; I take it in as the mouth draws in a breath. You do believe! You admit that a man can evince the same devotion, and now, your thoughts are so near my own I can hardly contain the desire to speak! Yes! Love can be sealed within the heart to escape nevermore. Believe it to be unwavering and overflowing within_

_E. W._

_I will look for you after the performance. Give me some sign that you entertain a thought of me, that I have even the smallest chance; else you have my word that I will never inconvenience you on this matter again._

Anne could not contain the gasp that escaped her lips as she read the end of the letter. "Inconvenience" her? "Even the smallest chance?" How could he not know that she loved him; she was his! Her mind began to soak in the words, rereading them, when she heard Louisa and Henrietta's voices coming from the elevator.

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**A/N: (le sigh) Yes, I did contemplate it but, in the end, I could **_**not**_** turn that letter into an email!**

**I do not intend to comment publicly to reviews from this chapter on. The end is near and I don't want to give anything away.**


	72. His Intentions

**A/N: So, I log on to post one chapter and glance at the number of reviews… Time for a double update! Many thanks. Part one:**

Chapter 72 – His Intentions

"You have been an exceedingly long time. Anne has been waiting over half an hour!" reproved Mrs. Musgrove to her daughters. Anne got up from the seat, the letter crumpled in her hand, as she moved to get her things together instinctively.

"Sorry we have been so long," apologized Louisa. "Why, Anne, are you unwell?"

"My dear," agreed Mrs. Musgrove, "your face is almost ghostly, it is so pale!"

"I'm sorry. I don't feel well at the moment."

"Oh, it is our fault! You haven't had any food. Come, we'll take a cab."

"No, no," Anne smiled. "I can walk. It is not as bad as that."

"I am glad to hear it," asserted Mrs. Musgrove, "You must take care of yourself. The body is very fragile, you know. Sometimes we forget how very fragile we are." Anne saw her eyes pass to her oldest daughter's frame. Louisa noticed the glance, too, and returned to her mother's side to give her a kiss.

"Come with us, Mama."

"No, your father will be back shortly. I will wait for him."

Anne could hardly avail herself of the conversation with Louisa and Henrietta during the morning repast. They had to call her out of her reverie often enough that they soon gave it up and resorted to conversing with one another.

"Where will you go now, Anne?" Henrietta asked her, as they exited the eating establishment.

"I must take my things to the theater."

"Shall we come with you?" offered Louisa.

"No. Enjoy your shopping." Anne hugged each of them in turn. "I am so pleased you are here; forgive me for my inattention at breakfast."

"I am worried for you. You must not allow yourself to be so wrapped up in the anticipation of tonight!"

"I will be fine, truly. There is no cause for concern. And I will meet you after the performance." The sisters agreed readily, as they parted from their friend.

"Are you nervous, Anne?" Valeria asked her, as they sat in her godmother's conversation room later that morning. Valeria seemed pleased to see her, and now she was actually speaking of the theatrical.

"I am extremely nervous, though I am not certain from what the agitation stems. I suppose it is only the jitters all performers experience because there is no turning back now."

"Do you wish to turn back?" her godmother's question was gently spoken.

"No! I feel that I have made the right decision." There was a pause in the conversation of the two women, until Anne began, "Leri, there are a multiplicity of things I wish to speak with you about-,"

"I , too. But my news regards Penelope Clay." The thought flitted through Anne's mind of seeing Penelope with Raoul. Should she begin there? Could Valeria know of a reason why Raoul would be meeting with her? When Anne did not continue, Valeria spoke in hushed tones, "Anne, she has two children who live with her mother. Has she ever mentioned them to your sister?"

"I – I don't know."

"I think it is possible that she has not, and if that be the case, I doubt she will want it told to Elizabeth."

"What are you thinking?" asked Anne.

"It is not what I am thinking; it is what I have done." Mrs. Russell's eyes were alight with anticipation. "I have contacted her mother, to whom she has not spoken for the past five months. She wasn't aware her daughter was living in New York! So, I kindly gave her the address. I have no doubt from the mother's manner over the phone that she will communicate with her soon, if she hasn't already. And, if Mrs. Clay is still there tonight, I shall mention what I know and tell her my next step will be to see that her mother has the suite's direct number." Anne's eyebrows were raised as Valeria paused. "I feel I must do something drastic. You know, it is not my wish to be involved in such affairs, but this woman has done enough! She must be forced to give up her schemes!"

At that moment both women where taken aback by the entrance of Elizabeth Elliot in the hall.

"Good day, Valeria. Anne! I am surprise to find you here. I expected you would be at the theater."

"I will return there shortly, I-,"

"It will be quite a production! I hope you will sing well this evening, since Dad and I will be in the audience." To Anne's astonished expression, she added, "Mr. Wentworth finally considered who was worth catering to, though his offering would have been more acceptable had it been received earlier in the week. But he apologized in the message which came from him just this morning – our seats are reserved, of course."

Anne hardly knew what to say! Erik had overheard Mary's remark the night before and made preparations for her father and sister to attend a sold-out performance. She had to find her words quickly, though. Her sister was eyeing her expectantly. "It is – I am so pleased that you will attend."

"I knew you would be. We will have coffee at the suite afterward. I intend to invite a few others besides Mary and Dr. and Mrs. Musgrove. Mr. Wentworth received our invitation for coffee when I sent our acceptance this morning. This will be Dad's farewell party as well, I imagine." Elizabeth sighed. "We are ready to be done with New York. Oh, and Valeria, you must come tonight. That is why I have stopped by; to offer you a personal invitation. But I haven't time to chat; I must go to Molland's to see if the dinner jacket Dad ordered last week was held at the shop."

"What is this? You are moving back to California?" asked an incredulous Valeria Russell.

"Yes. Back to the Malibu estate." Elizabeth seemed pleased with the reaction her news elicited from Mrs. Russell.

"How has this come about?" Valeria asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing to hide the irritation she felt in not being privy to the Great Elliot's plans.

"Oh, it just did. Dad and I have found it dull and sequestering here. It really isn't what we are accustomed to, even if our drawing room is twice the size of what is commonly found in the city. Coincidentally, Raoul will be in our company there soon. He flew in early this morning and came straightaway to Camden Place to call on us. His business in France went better than expected; he was able to find a buyer for some property that has been a nuisance to him for some time now. He also mentioned a collector-friend of his who is interested in finding a Cremona viola from the early 18th century. As you can imagine, many of his acquaintance are serious collectors. Dad, of course, owns one, and Raoul asked if he might be willing to part with it. Dad condescended to the arrangement that Raoul view the viola and another instrument in Dad's collection. Raoul is happy to be of service, and is sure to get the best offers, since he knows the buyers personally. In fact, he was so certain it would be just the thing, he advanced a bit for the viola."

Now Anne perceived why Elizabeth was so elated. The sum had been enough to give her sister and father a little spending money, and they would not have to endure the embarrassment of having Raoul know their penniless position. Yet, Anne felt a mixture of trepidation and skepticism. Her mind settled on the meeting she had witnessed between the man and Penelope Clay the night before. Clearly, it had been a falsehood when Raoul had asserted that his flight had arrived that very morning. What was Raoul hiding which involved Mrs. Clay? Whereas before, Raoul alone had been an object of odiousness to her, now Penelope Clay was growing in Anne's understanding to be capable of malicious deception!

"Where is Mrs. Clay?" Anne asked, hoping to understand the situation better.

"Oh, she had a family emergency. Her mother's health is bad, and last night Penelope was forced to depart hastily to go to her."

"Oh, how tragic," Valeria responded, the rapture in her voice hardly veiled.

Elizabeth ignored her remark. "It was the worst time for her to leave me, when I am in the midst of preparing for a small social gathering at the suite. I am quite angry with her. Oh, I really must be off. I have to approve the caterer's selections and see that I will have a few extra servers for tonight. I hardly know what to do; my planner always saw to these trivialities. And the caterer was so rude over the phone! How was I to know I was going to have this party any earlier? Really!"

When Elizabeth left, Mrs. Russell looked at Anne triumphantly. "There now! It worked; I can hardly own it, but it worked. She is gone, Anne. That horrible woman is gone."

"Yes," agreed Anne only half-listening. "It is all so strange somehow."

"What do you mean?"

"Leri, I don't trust M. de Chagny."

"What? And what does he have to do with the absence of Mrs. Penelope Clay?" Valeria asked.

"Nothing… I suppose." Anne hesitated. Perhaps her knowledge of Raoul was incomplete. He wasn't lacking in funds now, it seemed. Was it possible that Raoul had come into it recently? Still, she had no doubt he was planning some evil.

"Anne, just think what Raoul has done! He has not only persuaded your father to part with some of his collections – which, I understood from Shepherd before we left California would greatly assist Elliot in paying off his debts – he is taking a personal hand in seeing to your father's business."

"It is my impression that Elizabeth and my father have not confided in him; he is, rather, the agent of his friend who collects valuable instruments."

"It is beside the point," Valeria dismissed. "I have the utmost faith in his abilities, and I don't see how you could doubt him and his intentions toward you now."

Anne was barely able to contain the look of deep revulsion that threatened to manifest itself. While she knew that the things spoken of him by Sophie might have planted the seeds of doubt in Valeria's mind a day or so ago, her godmother's perception of Raoul's connection and aid to her family now made it impossible for anyone to deny what seemed to all of them to be the earnestness of his charitable nature. She possessed no proof, and Valeria would only be incensed at the man who had the nerve to assert that her cousin had dealt shadily with him. She would only bring a harsher judgment upon the man she loved from the prejudiced Mrs. Russell if she brought up Raoul's past dealings with Erik now.

Valeria read her own meaning into Anne's hesitative manner. "Remember that he is not obligated to make known his motivations, but I understand your concern. Truly, I do. I doubt that, once your relationship is more concrete, he will keep you in the dark about his intentions."

This condescension frustrated Anne in her endeavors all the more, but she did not reply. Of one thing she felt certain, though she could not ascertain what made her so: she was undeterred from believing her cousin's motive had nothing to do with assisting her father. He had offered himself for his own purpose, whatever it might be, and not to protect Walter Elliot. She shook her head, wondering what Raoul could be devising.

"Do you continue to refuse to believe he is taken with you?" Valeria asked, watching Anne's reaction and considering it to be in response to her implication regarding Raoul's interest in her.

"I do not know, but, Leri, I beg you not to put any faith in my having a future relationship with Raoul de Chagny," Anne answered firmly.

Valeria's brow clouded, and she declared, sarcastically, "To whom should I be expected to put my faith in, I implore you? Frederik Wentworth?" The name was out, as unexpected as it was to Anne. She pressed her lips together momentarily, as her godmother eyed her. "My dear, I can see it. I can see why you have taken the part. I watched you speak to him at the concert; what did you expect from accepting the role, Anne?"

"I expected nothing." _And received everything!_ she thought, joyfully. The glowing smile that spread over her features only worked to bring deeper creases into her godmother's brow.

Valeria said nothing, and Anne sensed that her pride kept her from speaking. They were interrupted by Anne's ringing cell. She acted as though she would ignore it and looked to the older woman.

"Oh, Anne." Valeria sighed disappointedly and walked out of the room, while Anne took the call.

"Hello, my little Siren! I have a small favor to ask," Gina began.

"What?"

"I have Meg's foot therapy with me, and I was wondering if you might meet me at the studio on ----- Street on your way to the theater. You know it, right?"

"I do, but I thought you were already with Meg?"

"I was, and we were at the theater for two hours this morning. And when I came back, I found that I had left the soak in my office. I am really put out with myself, because I could have given it to her easily without any interference from security. But now she has gone back with her aunt and uncle. So, I have come up with a plan. You will come pick it up for me, won't you?"

"Yes. I will stop by before two."

"Excellent."

Anne hung up the phone and entered the foyer to find Valeria speaking with her assistant. "Are we ready?" she asked her goddaughter as if her words to her regarding Mr. Wentworth had been a figment of the imagination.

Hardly anything was said of any consequence during the meal, though they both talked a great deal. Valeria seemed bent on keeping away from the subject of Erik, and Anne was willing to be agreeable to her godmother's choice of topics. Once, she caught Valeria's eye on her and perceived that her godmother was contemplating asking her some question. But, the question was never asked. Valeria kissed Anne's check as they left the restaurant. "You know I love you, don't you?" she said briskly; she would not revisit the earlier conversation. They parted ways amiably. Anne traveled by subway to meet Gina, buoyed in the knowledge that her godmother would support her, though Valeria did not necessarily enjoy having lost the influence she had once had in Anne's decision-making.


	73. The Presence of Another

**A/N: Part two of the double update: **

Chapter 73

As she traveled to meet Gina, Anne had time to consider that Frederik had been invited to Camden Place formally, after all. Would he come? She knew that it would all hinge on her. She could hardly contain her excitement. Why not call him when she reached the theater and say - what would she tell him? She loathed the thought of speaking of her heart to him through such an impersonal means after so many years. No, she must speak with him face to face. He had never been one to express himself openly; his dislike of Louisa's constant clinginess returned to her memory. St. Augustine was such a distant recollection in so many ways now. But he had finally realized his love for her there. She remembered his sharp criticism in the recording studio and wondered if that moment had brought forth those feelings again. She pulled the note out of her pocket to read it again. The pages were already becoming worn from her various perusals throughout the day. He expected her to speak with him after the performance. Oh, but what a torturous span of time she must wait!

How could he have received the impression he had no hope? From her behavior with Raoul at the concert? To think that she would entertain some attachment to that horrid man! She laughed to herself; oh, how far she was from such a feeling! Suddenly her father's words came to her mind:

"_He will be more closely associated with the family soon enough…"_

She knew Elliot alluded to a budding relationship between Elizabeth and Raoul; sadly, she could understand her father nursing such a fancy for his favored daughter. Though her sister could be unbearable at times, she would not wish such a miserable marriage on her. Was there a possibility of her cousin and her sister…? No. But, the idea worried her all the same.

She reached the studio door just as Gina was leaving it with her cell phone in hand. "Oh, I was just preparing to call you."

"It is not two yet, is it?"

"I know, but I have an errand to see to. Here," Gina handed her a gigantic coffee mug labeled, "Christine Elliot."

"What is this?" Anne asked, putting her nose to the small hole in the lid.

"No, don't drink it! It is Meg's foot therapy." Anne began to laugh at Gina's antics.

"I told you I figured out how to get it by the guard, didn't I?" asked the woman, her eyes twinkling.

"But why is my name on it?"

"I had to label it else someone might see a coffee mug and drink up."

"Mmmm…" Anne nodded. "Very ingenious."

"I thought so. Oh, and," Gina pointed to the large playbill displayed on the door. "Did you see this?" Anne looked at the poster and saw it was an advertisement for the _Siren of the Laconia_. Carlotta and Gabriel's names were prominently featured at the top. "There were many with this design, but somehow a few more of them made it into print with a small addition."

Gina pointed to the list of names in smaller font on the poster. _Featuring the voice of Christine Elliot performing _The Siren's Song. "Of course, I had to be sure the studio here had the improved one." She and Gina hurried toward the station together.

"But how did it get printed?" Anne asked as they swiped their cards.

"I don't know, but I have an inkling a certain talented composer might have seen to it. He is very taken with your voice, dearest. I am as well. I'll see you tonight, though I will be on the other side of the curtain," she added, waving farewell as they parted.

* * *

Anne entered the theater that afternoon, smuggling in Gina's treatment for Meg effortlessly. She went directly to the dancer's quarters, but found no ballerina within. She proceeded to hunt something on which to jot down an explanatory note to her friend, regarding the contents of the coffee cup. The only paper she had was the note from Frederik; she would rather perish than dismantle any portion of those treasured sheets. She went to the callboard to find a scrap to use.

"Anne!" spoke Meg, breathlessly, as she approached. "Come to your dressing room, won't you?" Immediately she followed her friend. "I am so nervous; I don't know if I can survive the afternoon. Did you see the cake? Only, it is not as good as the homemade scones Gina brought this morning. But the scones have all been eaten; I blame Jacob."

Anne laughed at the ecstatic dancer bouncing about the small closet. It seemed as though the room could not contain her. It was only then that Anne espied the immense bouquet of two dozen red roses on her small dressing table.

"Who sent these?" she wondered aloud, going over to them. Her heart fluttered as she pulled the card from the arrangement.

_Anne,_

_I look forward to your song tonight and our time at Camden Place this evening._

_Yours,_

_Raoul_

The disappointment was apparent as Anne crumpled the card in her hand. Meg asked, "What's wrong? They are not from a stalker, are they?"

"No. I was just expecting… Oh, it's silly. Here," Anne handed her the coffee cup. Meg looked confused by the offering. "Gina asked me to bring the foot soak in this to get past the door."

"Ah, yes. Interesting…. Would you mind if I returned here after the _Siren's Song_? We can talk it all over; sort of wind down together, don't you think?"

"Yes, that will be wonderful. Just leave the cup here, then. Oh, but there is no room with these flowers. I'll have to toss them," decided Anne, looking for any reason to be rid of the blooms.

"Toss them! Are you insane? They are gorgeous," exclaimed Meg, horrified that Anne would discard such a pretty arrangement.

"You may have them, if you like."

Meg seemed pleased with this and lifted the bouquet from the table to carry to the gathering room for all to admire. Anne was in the process of tearing Raoul's card into infinitesimal pieces when she noticed the single red rose which had been hidden behind the bouquet. There was no note, but tied to its lovely green stem was a single ebony ribbon. Anne picked it up lovingly, putting it to her face and inhaling the euphoric scent of the crimson petals. It was the perfect bloom, just unfolding to show its magnificence.

"Oh, Erik," she whispered. "Thank you, my darling."

When Meg reentered the room shortly thereafter, she had a scowl upon her face. "I think the flowers were destined for ruination."

"What do you mean?"

"Carlotta walked in, asked who had received the flowers and completely decapitated them in front of seven of us in the room. Please, Anne, don't go near her. She is in such a fury." She quickly added, "I'm sure it is just opening night jitters, but still, you must be careful."

Anne was in too happy a place to take much notice of the warning. Carlotta had been curbed once, and she had a feeling the diva actress's frustrations would be taken out on inanimate objects after the confrontation she had had with Erik.

Soon the performers took to their customary before-the-performance rituals and donned their garb. Anne meditated in her dressing room and found it difficult to concentrate. There were so many emotions within her. The air was electrified with adrenaline, and a sense of rushing, only to wait for the time to tick by. Anne was pinning the rose and black ribbon to her gown when the director called for the cast and crew to take the stage. He spoke words of encouragement, and a member of the union addressed them. The honorable token of a cloak was presented to Gabriel. Everyone applauded their congratulations and admired the garment, one panel of which was made entirely of plastic silver-colored safety pins. They gave hugs and kisses to one another, wishing each other good luck before returning to prepare for the performance.

Some prayed in their rooms and practiced their lines. Others congregated in the gathering room to keep their minds off the knowledge that the theater was coming alive now, both inside the house and outside in the streets surrounding it. The theater-goers were arriving, and Anne, who had watched for Frederik to appear backstage, was surprised at the disappointment she felt in not seeing him. It was silly to have allowed herself to anticipate his presence backstage; certainly, it wasn't expected of him.

While the wait for the start of the performance had been interminable, the program got underway and moved along swiftly. Anne felt her stomach churning at its fast pace, artists entering and exiting according to cue. All seemed to be flowing smoothly, until it was time for Carlotta's solo. The lights centered on her and she looked assured in having full command of the house's attention. She was a confidently tragic heroine, if there ever was such a figure. As she heaved a breath to prepare herself for the higher-noted phrase, "From this deed, I plead. Turn my mind away!" something happened. Instead of the word, "away," a tremendously loud and horrible sounding, "Cro-ack!" reverberated around the room. Carlotta looked startled, but continued the song. The orchestra did not miss a beat. The onlookers in front of the stage and behind seemed unable to comprehend what had occurred. Did that awful sound emanate from the actress's lips? The answer became apparent when the time came for her to repeat the melody and line again. "Cro-ack!" Now Carlotta seemed to lose some of her confidence. Her voice faltered, but the orchestra seemed to carry her along. The final lines of the song approached, wherein Carlotta, as Cora, was to repeat with passion, "Away! Away! Away!" Those behind the curtain waited breathlessly. Would she "cro-ak" again? Carlotta intoned shakily as she attempted to sing the first "Away!" and succeeded. Triumph was clearly in her eyes with the second. Yet, her expression quickly changed. She looked ready to faint as her last appeal was reduced to a resounding "Cro-ack!" louder and worse than the previous two. Instead of applauding, an action which would generally be expected at the close of a particularly poignant score, portions of the audience seemed stunned and did not know how to react.

"Quickly! We must not waste time. Hurry with the next scene!" was demanded, as Carlotta stepped behind the stage. She immediately confronted Jacob and slapped him across the jaw. She looked as though her eyes would burst into flames, but she could not speak aught but, "You!" Her dresser was there immediately and was heard to be bearing the brunt of the diva's wrath as she hurried her into her next costume.

Anne, knowing which way Carlotta was to exit, had been present on the other side of the stage, having been informed of the strange occurrence. She witnessed the close of the song, and knew exactly how the "cro-ack" had been manufactured. Erik was having his revenge on the woman who had threatened her and refused to apologize.

As the time approached for Anne to ascend the metal steps, Meg grabbed her arm and whispered, "Good luck, dearest!" kissing her cheek once more that night. Anne would have returned the gesture, but, fearful of smudging the dancer's make up, merely blew her the kiss. Anne noted how stunning little Giry looked before she took to the stage. The house was packed and, though the incident with Carlotta had been noticeable, the anticipation of the viewers was high. The mood of the theater was a spirit that floated up to Anne on the catwalk. It reached out and took hold of her, and she felt her knees quiver under the impact of such tangible emotion. She thought on Erik's words, long ago:

"…_it is not a time to reflect on past mistakes or present insecurities. It is a time to focus on your audience and reach out to them."_

She inhaled and relaxed her breathing, staring ahead at the tapestry which shielded her from sight and barred her from seeing the captain of the ship. The orchestra began the introduction. She looked down to espy Meg, barely noticeable as her costume blended in with the scenery; like a phantom of the sea, the dancer was clearly silhouetted yet invisible.

She began to sing, and her voice surprised her. It was strong and full of emotion. She knew it was because of Erik. He was listening and she was his; she had only to tell him. For a moment her eyes left Meg, but as she sang, the movements caught her attention. The first interlude of the orchestra began, and Anne watched the ballerina again. Suddenly, chills erupted over her arms. She realized why Meg's performance had drawn her eyes to view her; she had the strange feeling pass over her that she was seeing her mother again. The motions of the dancer had been familiar all along because it reminded her of the way the first Christine had danced. The thought rushed into her head as she began the next refrain:

"_Anne says she will sing in a pink dress one day and I will dance while she sings."_

Her mother was here tonight, telling her that she was watching! Her mother wanted her to sing; sing for the man who had made it all possible. The song began to climb and Christine sang with all she had within her. Her emotions brimmed over, and the lovely quality that distinguished her voice from any other Erik Wentworth had ever heard, and had brought him to look upon her for the first time, now filled the house of the Theatre Populaire.

"Now that you've come, come to me!" Her voice was pure and enchanting. She performed the lyrical elaboration, and the orchestra continued until the music ended with a resounding close, which signified that the Siren had won her victim. The silence lasted for only a few breath-taking seconds before the entire house roared their approval. The audience was standing, whistling, clapping, and crying simultaneously.

Christine reached out into the darkness to find the first step of the stairs to descend. Her heartbeat, already rapid, hastened again as the steps creaked below. "Miss Elliot."

Immediately she realized who she had been hoping to encounter and was greatly disappointed that it was only the stagehand who had addressed her.

Anticipation swept over her. Would she truly be able to find Erik after the show? What if she should miss him? Surely her sign to him was her song! Surely he would know she sang for him! Yet, she did not feel satisfied. Should she search him out during the intermission? The idea reminded her that the composer's time would probably be spent with the producers; for he had a part to perform for the production, as well. She felt torn; impatient for the show to conclude, yet worried that it would be over too soon and she might miss him entirely.

"Well!" exclaimed an out-of-breath little Giry as she entered Anne's dressing room. "I have never heard you sing so beautifully. Such a feeling came over me… I can't explain it."

"Your performance was incredible, Meg," Anne responded.

"Did you really think so? I felt the presence of the siren tonight, I think."

"So did I. Or some presence," she whispered softly, looking into her mirror.

"Where is the mug from Gina?" Meg asked her, glancing at the tiny table.

"I don't know. I left it here…" The artists looked at each other in confusion. "Let's check your table," suggested Anne.

"Oh, I hope it is there," Meg said, as they hurried down the hallway. Gina's soak was no where to be found.

"Miss Elliot," Julie called to her, as the two women entered the lower level. "We have a serious problem. Might I ask you, what was in the coffee mug with your name on it?" She did not wait for a response because a woman was being hurried toward her. Anne recognized her as Carlotta's understudy.

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**A/N: The "Cro-ack!" is from POTO.**


	74. Watching in the Wings

Chapter 74 – Watching in the Wings

Julie instructed the alternate for Cora then gave her attention to Anne again.

"It was mine," explained Meg. "It was a foot treatment Sorelli sent through Anne."

Julie inhaled, pressing her hand to her chest, and screamed, "What was in it? Oh, she's not been poisoned?"

"Carlotta didn't-," Meg looked horrified. Anne was already on the phone trying to connect with Gina.

"Pick up…oh, pick up," she whispered to herself as the phone rang and rang. Gina's voicemail answered. "She's not answering; I'll go and find her," she offered.

"No. I'll have her paged. I'm calling an ambulance."

Anne left a message on Gina's voicemail, speaking loudly over the hubbub going on around her. In a few minutes she espied the producers backstage. Anne's phone vibrated.

"What is wrong?" the choreographer inquired.

"I need to know what was in that mixture you made for Meg. Carlotta drank it, and-,"

"She _what_?"

"She drank it. They have called the paramedics." Gina was laughing irrepressibly. "Gina, help me!"

"The worst thing in the soak is peroxide. You know, I'm telling my family secret here…"

"Peroxide? You're sure that is the only ingredient that might be dangerous?"

"Positive."

She hung up with Gina and tried to call Julie, but the assistant didn't answer. Anne made her way through the people clustered around the door of the gathering room. No one spoke a word; most had backed away to keep stomach contents intact, but hovered along the corridor to hear what would happen. For Carlotta to be replaced by another on opening night was incredibly unlucky. The audience would not have time to grow accustomed to another actress for the last scenes, and it was likely the change would have a negative effect on the emotions the cast was working to portray.

"I am going to perform!" Anne heard Carlotta declare hoarsely. She saw Rich Firmin speaking with her, trying to reason with her.

"Well?" Julie whispered as she pushed through the cast and crew members, the phone still against her cheek.

"Peroxide. It had peroxide in it."

"The ambulance is here." Julie loudly declared to the entire assembly gathered around them, a hint that the onlookers should disperse.

"Fran, you can't-," Monty Charmin tried.

The lead actress adamantly interrupted him. "I am going to do this if it kills me."

Anne could not help but feel extremely sorry for the woman. Those watching at the doorway were turning away reluctantly, and Anne had little time to realize that Carlotta was exiting the room. The bright blue eyes met Anne's black ones. Carlotta's lip curled, and just as she was going to hurl her accusations at the woman, her eyes grew wide and she escaped back into the room. Retching noises quickly ensued.

"Five minutes!" came the call down the corridor.

The producers exited the gathering room. "Stop! Stop!" demanded Firmin. "Hold still, won't you?!" Anne's attention was caught by the force of the producer's words; Firmin was clearly incensed. He was standing with his back against the back of Monty Charmin, and was twisting around at an odd angle. Charmin's face was a vivid pink, and he continued to back up as Firmin continued to move behind him. The bizarreness of their movements drew an increasing number of stares. What could be the trouble?

"We have to get into the light; it is too dark to see what it is!" Charmin was saying, trying to walk forward.

"I just heard my coat tail rip, you idiot. Stand still!" Firmin responded.

From a door beside her came muffled laughter. She peered into the room, and Jacob looked up. His gaze went past her as he signaled for someone to give attention to the strange behavior of the producers.

She turned and noticed Gabriel, who quickly entered the room Jacob inhabited. "That was cheating!" Gabriel said in an irritated hush.

"Now, now, man. I never said I'd safety pin a better cast member. I said I'd pin someone worthier than Carlotta." Jacob was laughing more heartily as Firmin found a crewmember to disentangle his tuxedo tail from his fellow producer's. "Oh, ho, ho! Those two didn't see that coming. Did you see them trying to get through the hall? Christine, you saw it."

Jacob howled, while Gabriel donned a humorless expression, crossing his arms. "And," Jacob had tears rolling down his cheeks, "you thought I had something to do with that frog Carlotta swallowed earlier tonight. I daresay she's gotten rid of that croaking nuisance now!" He roared with laughter again.

"Have pity!" exclaimed Gabriel. "She is still heaving over the waste basket. She can't even speak; yet, she is determined to go on. Firmin said it was her choice. I think she's going to do it."

Jacob seemed to sober up a bit at Gabriel's reproof. "Oh, I didn't mean any harm to come to her. So, she's really going to take the last act? Someone inform Saak to stand at a distance."

The medical team was in the hallway, which took some effort to empty. Anne quickly headed in the direction of the stage and found Meg there, watching in the wings. "They are waiting to know whether Carlotta's understudy will take her place," Meg whispered. Anne perceived that the last act had been delayed. Saak, the current-day captain of the Laconia, stood by for direction. Was he to go on soon? And, if so, would it be with Carlotta? The noise of many feet approaching told the cast to make way. "Carlotta is here!" someone announced in a loud whisper.

The actress was extremely pale, but her performance would incorporate that very aspect. If only the actress could make it to the last without retching onstage, all would be well. She rallied admirably through the first scene and was escorted from the stage to prepare for her last entrance. There were no words from her now. She seemed to be saving her dwindling energies. The performers gathered in the hall, some praying, while others wore a shocked countenance as Carlotta returned. There were assistants fanning her and patting the back of her neck with a cool cloth. Carlotta looked livid as the last dabs of make-up were quickly applied, but she did not scold the make up artist.

The scene would be the hardest one yet: incorporating Saak and Carlotta's duet. From the moment she stepped onto the ship's deck, the principle actress's words had been hushed. The audience strained to hear her line, as the sound engineer quickly made the changes necessary. Instead of responding in song to Saak, Carlotta whispered her replies breathlessly. As the orchestral music became more intense, Carlotta tried to make her words more pronounced. Everyone behind the stage watched and waited. Was the audience confused? How was this strange performance being received? For most of them did not know how it was originally meant to be performed.

Those watching backstage could hardly breathe, their eyes pinned on Carlotta, the Siren, waiting for the sun to shine its first beams upon her with her back to the main mast. It was a countdown; only a few seconds more and Carlotta would disappear in a burst of flame. Her last line of the song came, and though she had whispered the previous words, as the flames shot up around her, she raised her arms and the orchestra burst forth in that final appeal. But Carlotta did not give the last words; only looked as though she was pleading with the fates, and disappeared.

The final scene of the play was underway. Most of the members who were not needed rushed to see how Carlotta was faring. As Anne and Meg followed, they heard a male's voice yelling, "Get it off me! Get it off!" Word spread quickly that Carlotta, in her rush to reach the bathroom, had collided with Jacob. Jacob had received a face-full.

"If we ever make it through this, remind me to tell Gina I can care for my own foot!" Meg announced.

Soon thereafter, Carlotta was on her way to the hospital. It seemed hardly possible when the sound of the audience's applause carried behind the stage.

"Can it really be over?" Meg asked.

"Curtain call," Gabriel told her.

Anne followed the cast members, as she positioned herself at the end of the line and waited for the crew of the Laconia to make their entrance by way of the ship. The thespians created a gap near the center of their presentation, where Carlotta was meant to stand, as the curtain separated, and the audience gave their approval. The orchestra conductor was acknowledged, the producers were acknowledged. Firmin, now separated from Charmin, though his tails hung disproportionately behind him, called the musical composer to the stage beside him. Anne watched as Frederik took the steps, smiling. She was on the other side, furthest from him. Firmin spoke a few words, and, having been given an update, made a vague but apropos excuse for Carlotta's absence. Anne breathed a sigh of relief as she ascertained that Frederik remained to make his exit behind the curtain. This was the chance she had awaited. To her dismay, she watched as Firmin directed him to follow the two producers. They were returning the way they had come; no doubt, Firmin was a trifle disinclined to allow any further tricks to be played on his person or that of Frederik Wentworth. The performers were concealing themselves behind the curtain for the last time.

The show was over, and she knew that Frederik would disappear into the crowd if she did not stop him. She had to speak to him! This might be her only chance! She moved forward as the curtain swayed. Erik's back was to her, descending behind Charmin. She knew her actions were unprofessional: the lights were fully lit in the house now, and many theater-goers had already risen, absenting their seats. The sight of a performer still on stage attracted a little interest. But the attention was all the greater when she beckoned loudly, "Erik!"

He turned, his frame still resting between the steps. Her face was flushed with embarrassment, she knew, but she tried not to think on it. She quickly hurried toward him, and he stepped upon the platform of the stage again, to her surprise.

He held his hand out to her to help her down from the stage, as though it had been planned. The reality of her faux-pas pained her all the more, leaving her speechless, unprepared. She took his hand, and looked at him mutely. What were the words she had prepared to say to him? He was ready to accompany her down the steps, but Anne did not move. She had espied the producers expectantly waiting below; she knew the moment he reached the floor, Erik would be overcome with fans and associates to greet.

She thought she would laugh and cry all at once. "I felt my mother's presence tonight." It was the wrong thing to say. Yet, she had had to say it; it meant so much to her. "Thank you, Erik. I can not-,"

"I am glad for you, Christine," he interrupted. She could tell he was disappointed. He was waiting for her answer, and she had not given it. She watched his eyes travel to the single bloom placed above her heart.

"I sang for you." She could not hide her emotions now; her face was an open book. Would he know now? Would he understand? He did not speak. The words, "I love you; I always have" were on her tongue; but they were not said because his face was before her with that enigmatic expression.

"I thought I could forget you," he whispered, as he bent his head to hers. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, to become aware of his surroundings. Christine knew that such an overt sign of affection was against his nature, not to mention what a deterrent being on the stage of the Theatre Populaire created. Yet, she was astonished to feel his lips softly caress her own.

All at once the applause broke out again over the noise of the house. It was then that Christine became aware that she had never let go of Erik's hand and was being helped down the steps. Faces were beside her and in front of her, talking incessantly. She remembered Louisa and Henrietta hugging her, and Mary complaining that her seat had been too much in the corner for her to see hardly any of the performance at all. She had a vague understanding that Frederik was taking her somewhere, and finally perceived that they were leaving the theater altogether when her foot hit the pavement out-of-doors. They quickly hurried from the side entrance; she almost had to run to keep up with his pace.

He slowed slightly so that she could walk beside him after they crossed the street, and confessed, "I was afraid I would lose you to that critic at the last."

"Critic?" Anne asked distantly.

The only response she received was a low chuckle. There had been no cause for concern on Frederik's part; Anne was oblivious to everyone but the man whose hand she held tightly in hers. Frederik released his hand, wrapping her arm around his own, covering her fingers with his as they swiftly walked onward. She became aware that she had the dreamiest expression on her countenance, but she didn't care. Euphoria was too common a feeling to compare to what she was experiencing as she continued to hurry along beside him. "Where are we going?" she finally thought to ask.

"Does it matter?" Erik responded tenderly, looking down at her as they continued to walk.

"No," she answered and smiled up at him.

"One more block," he said.

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**A/N: The safety pin fiasco is alluding to the chapter, "The Singular Attitude of a Safety-Pin," in Leroux's POTO.**


	75. Yours All Along

Chapter 75 – Yours All Along

They were walking along a small trail in a lovely park, when Christine was startled by a powerful laugh which broke forth from the man beside her. "How could I be so unlucky and fortunate all at once? Opening night in New York, the house is packed, and the woman who could have crushed me with one word finally tells me her music was for me." He sighed and took in her expression. While the light was on her face, she could see only his silhouette. She didn't know what to answer, but smiled up at him, blushing.

"What I want to know is: when? When did you know that you - that you could sing for me again?" She heard the smile in his voice. Why, he didn't know that she had loved him all along! She could not answer; his presence, his words, his looks overwhelmed her, as though she was in a dream.

He led her to an empty bench. The light shone on him now; his brow was furrowed contemplatively. "Come, tell me; I fear this only a fleeting happiness and I won't be able to keep you. What did I finally do to persuade you, Christine? For, I know now what a virtue it is to have the capacity to alter one's determination when reason calls for it. Had you had that irrational quality I thought was so admirable, I never would have had this second opportunity."

She knew he referred to his fleeting interest in Louisa Musgrove. She smiled inwardly that she had known his true character enough to conceive of his lack of attachment to her friend, whether he had been privy to it or no. Her feelings of mortification in having to admit her devotion were not so strong as to overcome her longings to speak her heart to him at last. "Erik, I think I shall disappoint your opinion of my tractable nature when I tell you: I have never _stopped_ loving you." She whispered the last with eyes surveying him from beneath her lashes.

Erik's jaw clenched; he leaned back, gazing upon her with an expression of undisguised adoration. She looked down abashedly in that expanse of time and became aware of the way he unconsciously caressed her hand, clasped in his own. "Never stopped," he repeated. "So, I could have contacted you...," he questioned with wonder. "Christine, three years ago I looked you up and for a short time I considered doing just that. If I had…?"

"Oh, if only you had!" she exclaimed meeting his eyes, her own conveying to him the depth of feeling.

Bemused, he touched her cheek lightly with his cupped hand. "Why did I allow myself such doubts? For years I have been fighting not to think of you – not to yearn for your voice, your smile, your laugh – and now, when you are here with me, I can hardly allow myself to believe in its reality!"

Understanding these sentiments, she embraced the hand she was holding in her two small ones. "I don't intend to let you go again." Her face held such solemnity. He did not speak for some time, and she faltered, "That is, unless you should wish to…,"

"No, my angel," his words were steeped in emotion. "I cannot comprehend this joy. The voice I thought to be too good to be true when I first heard it is now promising that the woman I never thought I could win is mine. I am delighted, though I cannot understand how you could ever love me."

Christine's eyes were wide with surprise, as Erik continued to explain, "Oh, I suppose now I have fame and celebrity, and you can look upon me without that repulsive stare you once gave to me." He seemed to relive the memory and, with a perceptible shudder, asked, "Do you recall the first time you saw me without the mask? I'll never forget it."

She touched his face, and gently brought his eyes back to hers. "How can I not love you? Your strength of will, your generous heart; do you not know what you mean to me?" The bold glint in his eye told her that he was considering a demonstrative means of reciprocating. Her heart fluttered in expectation, as she innocently continued, "And that our music brought us together." The words seemed to catch him, and his ardor, threatening to overflow its bounds, abated temporarily.

His eyes clouded over and she was at a loss to understand why, until he bitterly admitted, "I have resented your passion for your art. You put your passion for your music above anything - anyone else, and it took you from me."

"Erik," she began sorrowfully, the thoughts of the years that were lost weighing upon her mind. "If only I'd known you'd never received my letter. It would have-"

"I don't know if it would have made any difference. I had convinced myself, after that final meeting, that I would only hamper your success." She looked up at him, her eyes pained to hear the sentiments he had expressed long ago under the opera house.

"But, you knew how I felt-," she began.

"But _I _was not certain, Christine. You had your future, your career, laid out before you. Who was I? A frustrated musician, struggling under the disappointments of my misfortunes."

"But you were no longer alone at the Academy; you were in Lyon with your brother." Christine watched as Erik's features registered surprise before he acknowledged, "I see Edward has been speaking of me."

"When I dined with them, yes; he did mention what you had gone through. Though I doubt he suspected how well I knew you."

"I had only referred to you as an acquaintance," explained Frederik, exhaling slowly and staring up at the sky above, as though contemplating that harsh portion of his life again. His profile was clearly defined in the lamplight. It occurred to Christine that his features were familiar to her now; the sunken flesh of his cheek from which the straight line of his cheekbone protruded, the tapered, asymmetrical nose, his thin lips, which gave a determined expression to his face. He brought his eyes back to hers, aware that she was watching him intently.

"I was glad to know you were no longer sequestered underground. It hurt me to think of you there, alone and subject to your moods," she spoke softly, concernedly.

"In Lyon, I fled to the only solace I could and buried myself in my work. Yet, you were there, so close to the surface of my thoughts when I began composing the _Siren_. It spurred me on to complete it. I did not see that it was, in actuality, a seeming revenge. Instead, I thought it healed me; that I was over you." He smiled. "And then to see you again. It was – I can't even describe how I felt when I first saw you."

Christine laughed softly. "Stepping out of Dr. Musgrove's office, no less!"

"You hardly acknowledged me; it was painful."

"I didn't know what to do. I felt I was intruding. And I didn't know how you felt-,"

"I see that now. But, at that time, I was bound up in the belief that you no longer had a thought for me."

"Oh, Erik!" she whispered. "I couldn't give up my love for you. While I felt there was no hope, I wanted you all the same." His eyes lovingly caressed every aspect of her countenance, captured in the earnestness of her confession.

"I was yours all along," he whispered huskily as his lips claimed hers once again that evening. Christine felt the difference of that kiss. While the first had been attempting to perceive the depth of her feelings, the second left her in no doubt of what his own feelings – nay, his passions – were for her.

They sat on the bench wrapped up in their declarations to one another, delighted in the peace of knowing nothing was hidden now. Their thoughts and motivations could be shared; their dreams and hopes could be spoken confidently.

Christine enjoyed the banter which ensued when she playfully reprimanded him for his treatment of Carlotta that evening. "Really, she sounded like a frog."

"I hope it embarrassed her," his eyes glittered dangerously. "She was too proud to apologize; she needed to be brought down." Christine could tell by his expression that his spirit could not abide Carlotta's treatment of her.

"It would have been unfortunate for you if anyone else had known you were behind it!"

"No one could. Mmm… perhaps Harville might have guessed. He remembers my antics well enough during our time at sea… But, after all, I was hidden."

"Where?"

"Let's just say, for the third act, I had the best seat in the house." Christine looked mystified by his explanation. "I was able to watch the dazzling Miss Elliot sing the most exquisite rendition of the _Siren's Song_ I could have hoped for." It was Christine's time to be surprised by a confession. Erik smirked. "You looked completely divine, my angel."

The cell phone in Erik's pocket interrupted the tête-à-tête, the silent buzzing reverberating against the wooden bench. Erik sat back impatiently and sighed as he looked at the display. "It's Harville," he told her. He reacted as though he would not answer until she prompted him. Within seconds after picking up, he had the phone on mute. "It's your sister, Mary, asking if I have seen you." He looked perturbed, and she could not help but smile sympathetically at his frustration. "It seems rather unfair that I should have to share you with anyone now," he commented irritably. He finally handed the phone to her with a sigh of resignation. "I've waited nine years," he thought aloud, "what is a phone call to that?"

"Anne," complained Mary in her ear, "where are you?"

"What is it, Mary?"

"You must come quickly. Something dreadful has occurred: Dad's Strad has been stolen!"

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**A/N: One more chapter! Give a scribbler a smile by reviewing… please?**


	76. Epilogue

Epilogue

_The Siren of the Laconia – A Force to Reckon With_

Last night, Wentworth's _Siren_ opened to a full house. The production was considered risky by some critics apprehensive over the transition from the French stage. There was no cause for concern; its tale translates into all languages: curses, abiding love, insanity, ghostly revenge, the power of the human – and immortal! – spirit, as well as the swashbuckling entertainment of the crew of the _Laconia_. The _Siren_ combines splashy effects with an intensely driven plot; a rare find for thrill-seeking theater patrons. One of the highlights of the evening was a dance performed by Marguerite Giry, a ballerina who is evidence of the art that never dims nor fades. Accompanying her skill was soprano, Christine Elliot, whose golden-corded throat captured the hearts of all who experienced her song.

Having given ample praise to the production, I must concede that something was lacking in one or two aspects. The chemistry between the principle couple was non-existent. The captain seemed to be tip-toeing around his significant other rather than wooing her. There was also some mysterious difficulty during the second and last act, involving Francesca Carlotta, who was rushed to the emergency room immediately following the performance. News circulated during the after-show bash that Carlotta has no intentions of returning, and is flying out this week to shoot a piece filmed on location in Brazil.

Still, I foresee this production continuing on Broadway for a very long run. That is, if "Cora" is cast properly. I suggest waving farewell to the diva of the silver screen and trying an actress with the blue blood of Broadway in her veins.

(Winter – Three months later)

To: C. E. Wentworth

From: Mary E. Musgrove

Re: News about Dad's Strad.

_Dear Anne,_

_I hope you are enjoying your vacation in France. It must be delightful this time of year; I would like to stay in Paris for a time._

_I'm sure Elizabeth is as remiss in telling you the news of efforts to recover the stolen Strad as she is with me. The replica that was planted in place of the authentic has been traced to a maker in France, and he gave a written description of the man who purchased the instrument. There is no reason to hope that our despicable cousin was not involved now. He is surely run off with Penelope Clay, and they have the Strad – or, at least, we hope they still have it! _

_Dad's other instruments are safe, fortunately. Perhaps you did not hear that Raoul approached Shepherd with the document Dad had signed giving him authority to sell his treasures. Valeria says Shepherd has been invaluable in having seen through our horrid cousin's schemes; Dad would be bereft of other precious antiques if Shepherd had not insisted on a perusal of the contract Raoul had fabricated._

_Dad is so very infuriated at the way the authorities have gone about tracing the whereabouts of his violin. I daresay, they are not doing the job properly else they would have recovered it by now. Charles says that Dad should consider how much more he would have lost if the balance of the Malibu estate had not been paid off. While I do applaud your husband's generosity, I think it very impertinent for anyone to believe that you should not have come to Dad's aid! Certainly the Elliot reputation must be preserved! We could not have him living in a hovel! You might consider persuading Frederik to do more to assist in Dad's comfort at present. Perhaps he would use his energies and influence to discern the whereabouts of the Strad._

_Will it be of any use to ask whether you intend to come to California this coming summer? We had hoped you would make a short visit before you left the country, but you did not. Walter and Charlie have asked about their favorite aunt too many times to count. Surely you have no intention of missing the wedding! We have hardly had a reprieve from the inhabitants of the Grand Manor and all the plans that must be gone over. Henrietta's fiancé comes to dinner twice a week, and, I daresay, would come more often if not for Henrietta's schedule this semester. When we attend a dinner there -which is rarely, I assure you - it generally includes a recounting of Louisa's interviews for internship. I find it very dull, though Mrs. Musgrove relishes sharing the news so. Louisa is hoping to find a position in or around the Chicago area, since Benwick is well-situated with the symphony orchestra there._

_That is all I have to relate. You can hardly expect more exciting news from me; nothing exciting happens here anymore. You must write soon, though I fear it will be another month before I receive a response from you. I'm sure Charles was just telling me how delighted he would be to take a vacation. Paris must be beautiful in the spring months._

_Lovingly,_

_Mary_

(Late summer of the next year)

_Soprano Impacts Music Education with 1__st__ Annual Benefit, New York_

Christine Elliot Wentworth, known for her performance in _The Siren of the Laconia_, as well as Ninetta in _La Gazza Ladra_ last spring, has brought together some of the brightest talent of opera today for a dazzling night at the Honore Opera in September. The concert will benefit the young artists of her most cherished cause, Note_d Youth_, headquartered in Brooklyn. Following the concert, the bewitching soprano, with a D.M.A. in performance, is expected to take a hiatus from her work to travel to France with her composer-husband, Frederik Wentworth. The duration of her time there is uncertain, but she is expected to continue her responsibilities on the board for Note_d Youth_.

August…

_Valeria Russell_

_Malibu, CA_

_Dear Anne,_

_The birthday gift was charming! The painting is incredible and my other pieces pale in comparison. Tell Frederik that he has excellent taste._

_I intend to be in New York for the Benefit. I wouldn't miss it. The Ibbotsons will be there, as well. It will be impeccably orchestrated, knowing you. I hope we will spend a day together during my stay. _

_Mary is visiting and expects to return tomorrow. She is rather down of late since the Musgrove girls are no longer at home. The thought of you in France for such a long period, without having the luxury of running up to New York to chat, makes me low as well. But we will keep in touch; you know I am always here for you when you should need me._

_Give Frederik my love. All my love to you as well!_

_Valeria_

October…

Ms. Marguerite Giry

Manchester, England

_Dear "Auntie" Anne,_

_Maman and I completely understand that it will be a bad time to visit after all. In fact, I would have been forced to reschedule; the plan is definite that we will be on tour in the U.S. for a period of eight to twelve weeks. My break in the summer next year will be a better alternative. _

_I can hardly believe it, but I've been with the troupe three months now. Sometimes being in such constant contact with my fellow-dancers gets tiresome. There are five of us newly appointed to the corps de ballet. We've grown rather accustomed to one another, though I can not say I'm particularly delighted in the time I spend with any, but one: Suzanne. I adore her. We are like sisters, and her confidences and sweet-tempered spirit make the other three I share a suite with bearable. She is by far the most exquisite ballerina with her unparalleled line and technique; yet, she has difficulty with expression, coming off aloof at times instead of depicting the emotion needed. Katherine and Lydia are two sisters that compete with each other mercilessly for any role that presents itself. They are so-so dancers, in my opinion, but they flaunt themselves as étoiles_. _Then there is Mary. While she takes her art seriously, she is devoid of any real talent. Yet, she spouts theory as though she is the last say. We are coached by a couple whom we call Papa and Mama Bennet. They have adopted us as their own, and while I find Papa Bennet's surprising wit a joy, Mama Bennet is a supreme annoyance. She mostly dotes on Lydia and leaves us be, fortunately._

_Sir Andrew Ffoulkes is all I could hope of a beneficent patron. He is very attentive, especially to Suzanne. But Sir Philip Darcy-Blakeney, or, as his friends call him: Darcy, is the most supercilious man I have ever met, bar none. I have seen him three times since I joined the company, and am convinced that the more I meet with him, the more his arrogance will only render him ever more contemptible in my eyes. Fortunately, this has not occurred often. I know what you must be thinking: how can the choreographer of his own dance company be that remiss in his duties? Well, I'm sure I do not understand it. I've been told, since the company is getting on its feet, there is mostly PR work which he must attend to. I'm not hurting by the lack of attention, though, I assure you. Remind me to tell you what I overheard him tell Andrew in reference to my technique_._ I die laughing when I think of it, though Mama Bennet was insulted enough for both of us. Oh, I shall tell you now, but don't be offended for my sake; it meant nothing to me._

_Sir Andrew was discussing the Winter Gala performance when the graveyard scene of _Giselle_ was mentioned. At the time, it had not been decided who might get the role, and Andrew mentioned giving it to me. His words were, "You might consider Marguerite. Her interpretation would greatly enhance the pathos, if you would recreate the piece to complement her technique." Darcy's response was: "I have hardly given any consideration to Miss Giry, who is yet so inexperienced that she cannot have any true grasp on pathos that would do justice to Coralli and Perrot's _Giselle._ So, why would I go to such pains to create a variation for her? Your words are wasted upon me." So, you see what a puffed up toad he is. Though I do not care in the least for his good opinion, I am concerned about the impact his reticence might have on my career._

_I'm hoping all of the renovations have not made the cottage unlivable. I look forward to seeing it again, but you, especially. Tell Uncle Erik I've met someone here who is acquainted with him. Yes, he's a man, and a very handsome one. Ironically, he happens to be Darcy's half-brother, but I won't harbor any ill will toward him for that. His manners are very different from Sir Darcy-Blakeney's._

_A hundred kisses. Maman sends her love, as well._

_Meg_

"There you are," Erik exclaimed coming through the door. "I had half a fear you were in town."

"No, I shall run my errands after lunch. What is it?" asked Christine, lowering Meg's letter.

"Can't you guess?" He looked at his wife expectantly, becoming impatient when her face showed no comprehension of his news. "I've finished it!"

Christine's eyes lit up. "You have!"

"Didn't you hear me last night?" Erik seemed a bit crestfallen.

"Yes. But, my dear, you have been working on it every night for weeks. I've grown accustomed to falling asleep to your lullaby."

"Lullaby! It is no lullaby. Put your letter down, and come!" he demanded impatiently.

"It's from Meg. She says she is finding Sir Darcy-Blakeney trying," Christine responded, as she followed her husband into the small music room. A make-shift barrier concealed where a portion of the wall had been removed, giving the room an unpolished aspect. The furnishings were sparse and positioned away from the unfinished wall. Christine immediately seated herself upon a settee, facing the back of her husband as he crossed to the piano. This was her favorite room, her favorite place to sit; sometimes she would creep in when Erik was deep in his work and watch him, adore him and drink in his passion as he chiseled out his jewels of chord and measure.

"She doesn't like Darcy? What's wrong with him? Doesn't she know he's the reason we have our little cottage?"

"How would she know? She was never privy to the transaction between you and him…" she paused, but he took no notice; he was perusing the printed copy he had just run off before placing the music on the piano rack.

"Erik, does Meg know anything of Raoul?"

"What?" His attention was arrested briefly by her inquiry. "Raoul? No, I doubt it. Sophie didn't want her in that business." He turned to look at her and noticed her pursed lips, her brow lowered in concern as she perused the letter once more.

"Enough of Meg. Listen; you must hear it!" Erik began to play the creation that had become so familiar to Christine. The tune, dedicated to his mother, that he had played years ago under the opera house, was now developed into a complex composition. She closed her eyes and listened, embracing the emotion that the player was calling forth from his instrument. Suddenly, the music halted. The lid of the piano was flung down violently. She opened her eyes with alarm and watched as Erik strode over to her, the muscles protruding from his angular jaw. Her first reaction was to shrink back, pressing herself against the cushions of the seat. Whatever was the matter? Why was he so angry?

He knelt down in front of her, his golden eyes looked pained. "Tell me about the letter."

"What?"

"You are worried about something you have read in Meg's letter; tell me what it is," he directed. Christine's eyes questioned him mutely, completely discombobulated by his actions. He sighed, placing his hands on her lap and looking down at the floor. He returned his gaze to her and said, "I promised myself that my music would never come before you. I told you that; do you remember?"

"Oh, Erik. It is nothing of significance."

"Yes. Yes, it is. You are concerned about something, and I just pushed it away." He rested his head in her lap in repentance and said, "I will not disregard your feelings."

Christine's first thought was to tell him she didn't care. His passion for his music endeared him to her. He knew this; for, she had repeated it to him many times. Yet, knowing that it would only prolong his absence from the piano and his masterpiece, she quelled the inclination to argue. She quickly told him of Meg's allusions to the half-brother of Darcy. "Do you think it could be Raoul?"

"I'm not certain. I believe he might have half-siblings on his mother's side as well. I heard him speak of a sister once. I will mention it when he approves the cottage restorations next week." His eyes pleaded with her in a way which said, "Will that suffice?"

She pulled the face she found so dear toward hers and kissed him gently. "Play!" her soft voice impatiently announced. He did not waste another moment, but took the room in three strides to grant her request.

Thoughts of the love Erik's mother had for her son in that very house trickled across her mind as she immersed herself in the beauty of the composition once more. Erik introduced a new portion which she had not yet heard; it fit perfectly. The silence that engulfed the room when the last note's echo subsided brought Erik's eyes to Christine's.

"What do you think?" he whispered.

The emotions of the piece affected her in such a way that all she could return was, "Oh, Erik."

He smiled then. "It will be my crowning piece, I think. I've come to call it _Dawn Won Triumphant_. I intend to speak with the lyricist tonight. Do you mind that I will be out on business this evening?"

"Not at all," she assured him.

"Once this score is sorted out, there will be one thing wanting: a voice to sing it. Have you reconsidered accepting the role of prima donna in this opera?"

"No… unless you've reconsidered having me."

"Never. Never, my angel," he said, and walked over to hold her once more.

_Finis_

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**A/N: "Don Juan Triumphant" was the Phantom's masterpiece. I have left my story open for a sequel (a modern-day crossover between The Scarlet Pimpernel and Pride & Prejudice), but will not focus on scribbling that out at present.**

**You have been kind in sharing this journey with me. Kisses to my beta, Tater, who examined every single chapter and made each decipherable! The reviews have been inspirational and incredibly encouraging, especially the feedback given by my "review divas" followthestory, Misty Breyer, bluetinkerbell, full0fgrace, Nonny, and Martissa. Loads of thanks to Ana-Misa; your remarks and comparisons have been invaluable, and I believe you to be a literary kindred spirit. (grin)**


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